


all the mind games

by thominewt



Category: The Maze Runner (2014), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bisexual Male Character, Boys Kissing, Drug Use, M/M, Smoking, brenda is thomas' sister, college!gladers, jorge is a bad guy sorry:(, newt and minho are bestfriends, newt is a cocky son of a bitch basically, newt is bad at feelings, newt is really cool, newtmas - Freeform, rich!newt, teresa and brenda are bestfriends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-04-03 05:42:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 41,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4089100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thominewt/pseuds/thominewt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>thomas meets a charming british boy (who has no limits when it comes to plucking at other people's heart strings) and his group of wild friends during his first days of college. after being mysteriously befriended, he can already feel himself getting dragged into the confusing world that is newt - a rich eighteen year-old who's necessity is pleasing people (in more ways than one). </p><p>or</p><p>just a couple of naïve and hormonal teenagers who do things because they can - with certain consequences.</p><p>-</p><p>chapter lengths become longer in later on chaptersʕ•ᴥ•ʔ✧*:・ﾟ✧<br/>title is from the song "from above" by rae morris</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. chapter one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> thomas catches a certain someone's eye.

The first day of college.

It's never non-productive, or _normal_ for that matter. Thomas had to learn this the hard way.

 

 

* * *

 

 "College," Brenda mumbled with a toothbrush lingering in her mouth as she tapped away on her phone. It was enough however, to wake Thomas up.

As the sister skilfully closed the door with her foot, Thomas took a deep breath and slowly sat up - running a hand through his morning bed hair. He stayed there for a while, not wanting to leave his warm and protective duvet. The main reason he didn't want to get up, was because of what he was supposed to get ready _for._

Thomas felt a shiver as he replayed the dreaded word through his mind, but managed to get up nevertheless. He wandered over to the full-view mirror in the corner of his room.

"College," he tested out the word to himself. After a few seconds of intense self-staring, he sighed and shook his head slightly. "Weird," he muttered as he walked lazily to his wardrobe (full of nothing that catches the eye).

Thomas slumped his shoulders at the selection before him, but picked out a good enough outfit anyway. He didn't care _that_ much, was what he tried to convince himself most of the time he wore clothes. After messing around a bit with his hair, he hesitantly made his way downstairs - knowing of what to expect when he got to the kitchen.

"Thomas! How you feeling about your first day? Nervous?"

_Sigh,_ was his internal response. 

"Not really," Thomas answered whilst fiddling with the stem of an apple, far from willing to meet her keen eyes.

"Oh, ok," she perked up before nodding and looking at the tiled floors of the kitchen. "Excited then?" She smiled.

"I guess," Thomas gave a weak one back. "Meeting new people and all that." That wasn't a lie. If Thomas was excited about anything today, it was making new friends - however sad that may sound.

"Exactly," his mum seemed more than pleased at that answer. "You want me to drive you two?" she asked - lifting her mug of coffee to meet her thin lips (soon to be outlined and filled with rouge lipstick no doubt).

"It's fine, I can drive," Thomas insisted.

At that moment, Brenda opened the door with her bare foot and her eyes still locked onto her phone screen - leather ankle boots in her free hand. It was her first day too. "Hey, mom?" She looked up after a short moment of silence, "Do you know where my ankle socks are?" She asked with furrowed eyebrows.

"Which ones?" The woman replied, not sounding at all that concerned if Thomas was honest.  
"Black."

All the elder did was shrug and say, "Can't say I do, hun," and sipped at her coffee as she leant back against the kitchen counter.

Brenda groaned and practically stomped back upstairs for another search.

 

* * *

  

By the time they made it into the car, it was already way later than Thomas intended it to be. They would still get there on time though, he hoped. The last thing he wanted was to show up on the first day as 'that new kid who was late because he probably overslept'.

Luck was in Thomas' favour however, as the two siblings managed to arrive on time due to the lack of traffic.

"Brenda!" Thomas heard another female's voice, and not long before he heard his sister's soft laugh as she jogged towards her long-term best friend across the parking space.

Thomas sighed internally, remembering that unlike him, Brenda probably had someone to stick with throughout the first day - unless she didn't think much about letting him tag along (or unless he befriends at last one new person, that is).

"Hey, Tom," Teresa smiled warmly at him once the two strode over to his car; she was wearing her usual colour of black. Thomas could never seem to match her mysterious appearance to her sweet personality that often, but a lot of boys seem to like that apparently (according to the heap of men she has been involved with). She's not one to stay permanent with a relationship.

"Hey, Teresa," Thomas smiled back at her. Ever since her and Brenda became best friends when they were little, Teresa was always close to Thomas.

"You think we'll all be in the same class?" Brenda asked, looking interestingly at the crowd of new people lingering around the area outside the college building.

"No way to tell," Thomas replied.

As Teresa and Brenda proceeded into their own chat, Thomas' eyes caught on a group of boys that looked around his age hanging about a sleek car, laughing and talking quite loudly. Thomas assumed they must be new as well.

_Incredibly cocky for freshmans_ , Thomas shamelessly judged in his mind.

One of the boys locked eyes with Thomas and he noticed the stranger was the only one to have a cigarette between his lips. He almost wondered whether or not it was just there as an accessory by the way it hung out lazily. He was sat in a chilled fashion on top of the hood of the car, and he wore black, skinny jeans and a simple, grey t-shirt. This particular teenager had managed to pull this look off though, however.

The boy's expression changed somehow. What was once an amused face - still smirking at a joke someone had made - now turned into quite an intriguing one - almost as if he was trying to undress the other with his eyes (that's what it felt like to Thomas anyway). Someone bumped the stranger's arm however, and the longing stare disappeared as his attention was diverted somewhere else.

"C'mon," Brenda tapped Thomas' shoulder. "People are going in."

As Thomas, Teresa and Brenda made their way through the double doors of what would be their first day of college, he couldn't help but sense a lingering pair of eyes on him.

_This was not how he planned to meet his first new acquaintance._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well hello!  
> this is my first ever fanfiction so I'm super excited to be writing this :)) (and I really hope it doesn't suck)  
> please comment as it would make my life complete ^.^  
> also, I apologise if anything in this fic is not accurate, but I go to a secondary school in the UK so you can probably tell I'm not exactly familiar with what happens in American colleges...(I based most of this from skins uk)


	2. chapter two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> thomas can feel himself getting drawn in.

"Welcome to Gladen College," the headmaster of the institution spoke through a small microphone and his stern voice projected throughout the hall. "Today, you will take your first steps towards your future," he continued, "I and the rest of the staff, wish you the best of luck in your education...and _determination_ towards a brighter and better 'you'," he paused for what seemed like a dramatic effect (though most of the students surrounding Thomas looked bored out of their minds).

After receiving a couple more introductions to the other more important staff members like the deputy (a woman with a horribly noticeable stutter), they got given timetables with all of their classes written down - it was advised that they should use these instead of going through the process of filling out their own dates and so forth.

"Now, straight to your first classes and start _striving_ ," the headmaster raised his voice a bit as students _strived_ out of the door like birds being set free from a cage. All around Thomas, were girls and boys asking each other which classrooms they were in with what teachers. Beside him, he heard the disappointed sounds of his sister.

"I knew I'd get different classes to you," she whined to Teresa, who was busy comparing their timetables. All three of them were making their way down the crowded corridors.

"It's only for a few, look," Teresa showed Brenda all the ones that they had together and it seemed to cheer her up a bit. They both always liked the same things, including subjects. If Thomas was being honest, he had no idea where he was going. Before he even thought about looking down at his timetable, Teresa practically snatched it in a flash before smiling.

"Looks like you're in most of my classes too, Tom," she said.

At that, Thomas felt a wave of relief.

Because Brenda had psychology class, the other two parted from her and made their way to their lesson instead.

"What's our teacher called again?" Teresa asked as they turned what felt like, the hundredth corner. (Teresa pretty much memorised the whole map of the place before-hand).  
"Mr Albert," Thomas informed her after quickly scanning his timetable.  
"He sounds like one of those grumpy, old men," Teresa groaned. Thomas laughed softly.  
"You can't judge someone by their _name_ T," Thomas said amusingly. Teresa just shrugged in reply and nodded her head towards a door on their right they were about to reach.

_**Sociology Class C4** _

"Here we go," Teresa grinned amusingly as she pulled down on the door handle without a hint of hesitation. Thomas wasn't that surprised at how confident she was. They turned out to be one of the first ones there thanks to Teresa's brilliant mental mapping.

Also sat behind a desk, was a pretty blonde girl who chatting wildly to her friend perched on a table in front of her. As soon as the friend caught eyes with Teresa and Thomas, she gestured for them to come over with an inviting grin. She had dark skin and was wearing a loose-fitting denim jacket along with plenty of colourful bracelets of all shapes and sizes across her wrists. _Friendly_ , was the first word that popped up in Thomas' head. _Almost too friendly_.

"Hey there," the friend greeted, to which the pair did the same back. "I'm Harriet - this is Sonya," she looked at the blonde who was sitting behind her desk and she gave a soft,"Hi," and a little wave, but seemed more interested in the texts she was busy sending. Thomas almost expected to shake hands, but then he remembered that this was modern day college and that level of formality was probably seen as off-putting.

"Nice to meet you," Teresa gave a warm smile. "I'm Teresa," she said.

"And I'm Thomas," Thomas informed them politely before he could be introduced by the girl beside him.

"Cool to meet you too," Harriet chuckled slightly. "Damn I'm hungry," she groaned. Thomas couldn't agree more. Harriet seemed to be the kind of girl that he could feel comfortable saying anything to, and that was only within seconds of meeting her.

"Same here," he laughed. "You know if the food here is any good?"

"Most probably go off campus to eat, I'm guessing," Sonya answered.

More student filed in the classroom and the peaceful chat between the four of them had to be disturbed. "We better go find some seats," Teresa said with an excited tone lingering in her voice.

"Take those ones," Harriet insisted enthusiastically as she gestured towards two free desks next to theirs. Teresa located herself next to Harriet, and Thomas to Sonya. It was only then that Thomas realised he needed to make some guy friends. He'll worry about that later.

Just as the desks were being filled, a dark-skinned, bulky-looking man walked in. He was wearing a simple button down shirt and formal trousers and shoes, but he was someone who made this look _cool_. His appearance managed to come off as friendly and intimidating at the same time. As he set down his various papers and things on the larger desk, Thomas decided that he was going to like this teacher.

"Good morning and _welcome_ to your first day at Gladen," he began, but said it as if he only just remembered that it was their first day. He spoke with an intriguing confidence that made everyone listen fully. "My name is Mr Albert, but you can call me Alby," he told them. "And before you ask, no my name is not Alby Albert," he added to which the entire class laughed willingly.

The laughter died down however, as the door was opened way too forcefully and two boys walked in. Immediately, Thomas recognised one of them from earlier. His blond hair looked even softer and better styled from a closer distance and some of the strands were fallen out of place in a rugged fashion. Thomas noticed that he was wearing Adidas shoes and a leather jacket was thrown over his shoulder. The other was a muscly Asian kid with just as much of a glint in his eye than the other.

"Being late on your first day is not a great start, boys," Alby immediately scolded them, to which they didn't show any kind of reaction apart from smirking.

"Apologies, Sir," the one who Thomas made eye contact with this morning said. His British accent didn't go unnoticed, and many of the girls in the room met their friend's eyes with eyebrows raised cheekily. Even some of the guys seemed to become more keen as soon as he opened his mouth. _Everybody loves British accents._

"Find a seat," Alby instructed with cautious eyes.

The hint of a grin still played upon the two boys' faces as they traveled down the rows of chairs to the back. The British boy's friend seemed to be a lot more excited than he was - like a lost puppy mindlessly following him.

"Right," the teacher clasped his hands together. "As I was saying, you can call me Alby, but don't expect any special treatment - let's move onto introductions," he said with an obvious fake hint of excitement. A few groans and sighs were heard, to which Alby muttered, "I know, I know," but Harriet looked quite keen. _She's definitely the social type._

"Please stand up and state your name before giving a fun fact about yourself - if you have one that is," he mumbled in a lowered voice. It was obvious from the fake cheerfulness, that he didn't even attempt at hiding, that all the staff in charge of freshmans were being forced to do this. "You," he pointed at a lanky, dark-skinned kid in the front row who already looked as if he regretted sitting there.

He stood up and said, "Uh, my name's Jeff," he introduced. Within half a second, Thomas heard the chorus of infinite laughter (starting with the British boy's friend at the back). His was definitely the loudest. Even Thomas snorted out a chuckle, as did Sonya once he met her gleaming eyes in pure amusement. "My fun fact is that that happens every time I introduce myself," Jeff added with a grin. _At least he didn't take it offensively_ , Thomas thought. _That's a worthy guy friend_.

After a couple more introductions (Harriet even told the class that she thought her mom was having an affair as her fun fact) Alby nodded towards Thomas. "You," he said.

Thomas stood up and decided to keep it simple,"Name's Thomas," he said. "Uh, a fun fact is that," he paused for a while-thinking. "I have a love for food - especially pizza," he admitted (which was completely true). He heard the breath of a soft laugh coming from the back, but resisted the urge to turn around.

"One of the most _believable_ facts, I have to admit," Alby said. "Thanks, Thomas - you can sit," he added. (Thomas was already on his way to sit down anyway, but didn't say anything). "You," the teacher pointed to the back of the classroom so the brunet had to turn his head in order to see the the chosen student.

The blond boy stood up willingly with a playful smile as his friend looked at him with amused expectation. A lot of the other students (mostly girls) seemed to become intrigued as well; it was as if he received this natural attention on him whatever he did. _It was probably the accent_ , Thomas thought to himself.

"People call me Newt," he started to which Alby interrupted.

"So I'm guessing that's not your real name then?" He asked with raised eyebrows.

Newt laughed softly and said, "No, my real name's Isaac."

"Clever," Alby retorted.

"Isn't it?"

"And your fun fact?" The teacher asked, blatantly ignoring the boy's confident attitude.

Newt glanced at Thomas and locked eyes with him for a split second before answering with, "I'm gonna' get laid tonight."

Surprised gasps and snorts of laughter echoed around the room. Thomas was shocked at the amount of confidence this boy seemed to possess, but Alby just smirked. "So, you're a cocky one then?" He asked with a hint of attitude in his voice.

"Very," Newt drawled out.

Thomas found himself breaking out into a small smile without realising, but turned his attention back onto the front of the room before the other boy could see. _Surely not._

"Very well Newt, you may sit," Alby said.

After the last few introductions were made, Thomas found out that Newt's enthusiastic friend was called Minho.

His fun fact was that Newt was his best friend.

Alby spent the rest of the lesson explaining the basics of what the students were going to learn throughout their first year in sociology and the kind of jobs that (apparently) benefit from the subject. Thomas' back felt heated the entire time the teacher was talking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave comments!


	3. chapter three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> something happens.

"Enjoy the rest of your day," Alby announced after glancing at the clock above the projection board, causing students to disperse from the room - conversations already in action. Thomas and Teresa started their own as they walked out.

"Pretty cool teacher don't you think?" Teresa asked with a grin.

"Says the girl who was accusing him of being a 'grumpy old man'," Thomas retorted with an amused expression.

"That was before I actually saw him!" She defended with a frown.

He heard Harriet and Sonya laughing at the current bickering in front of them.

"Which is exactly why I said you shouldn't judge someone by their name," Thomas concluded with proudness.

He heard Teresa grumble, "Whatever," as they made their way down the corridor filled with a sea of chatting teenagers. They gave a quick goodbye to Harriet and Sonya and the two girls insisted on meeting up later for lunch.

"There's Brenda," she pointed near the lockers. He saw his sister meddling about with books and putting a whole pile in before shutting it quite frustratingly.

 _She_ didn't have a great first lesson then.

"Hey! How was your psychology cl-," Teresa began, but Brenda interrupted before she could finish.

"-Horrible," she stated. "I have this stupid old guy who just mumbles everything," the teen moaned. "He piled a load of textbooks on us already and insisted we read all of them in our free time," she rolled her eyes. As soon as she said the words "old guy," the other two broke out into laughter - amused at the fact that Brenda ended up with the elder teacher Teresa was sure to be expecting.

"Why is it so funny?" Brenda asked with a grin.

"Tell you later," the friend waved her hand with a smile still upon her face.

Even though the corridors were now less full, Thomas felt someone brush against his shoulder as they walked past. He looked up to see Newt and Minho walking together - their confident aura surrounding them every step they took. The blond span on his heel to catch Thomas' stare before giving a boyish smirk and continuing to walk round a sharp corner with his companion right next to him.

"His accent _killed_ me, not gonna' lie," Thomas heard Teresa say in what sounded like admiration, but Thomas continued gazing at the spot Newt just was.

"What accent does he have?" Brenda asked as her eyes gleamed with interest at her friend.

All Teresa had to say was the word, "British," and the other girl was practically squealing with delight.

"The best accent of them all," she gushed as if it was a common known fact.

Thomas had to stand there for a while as the two friends exchanged a couple, "I know!'s" before he said, "We better get to our next lesson." Luckily for Brenda, she had her next class with both of them, so they all walked together.

For some unknown reason, Thomas felt a pang of disappointment when he walked into his English classroom and didn't find Newt or Minho located anywhere.

 

* * *

 

The three of them met up with Harriet and Sonya like they promised for lunch (luckily they scheduled their classes to fit in time with each other). Thomas seriously hoped that they would bring along a guy (not that he didn't like them, but it would look pretty pathetic if he was sitting with four other girls at a table).

His luck seemed to be progressing throughout the day however, as he noticed one of the guys from his sociology class approaching alongside Harriet and Sonya. Thomas, his sister and Teresa were sitting outside college grounds, on a picnic table near a local café. As the new arrival got closer, Thomas recognised him as the kid called Jeff.

"We used our art of persuasion to get him to come hang with us," Harriet stated once they sat down.

"Turned out to be a lot easier for them since I had no other plans," Jeff said playfully with a small grin.

"Loved that introduction you gave in sociology," Thomas laughed as he thought back to it.

The other boy joined in. "Like I said earlier, it happens everywhere I go," he explained - opening a can of Coke. The tension in the air was non-existent, and Thomas found himself talking to him as if he knew him for years.

"And you can't think of any other way to introduce yourself? Like I don't know, 'I'm Jeff'?" Teresa questioned him with amusement.

"Not as effective," Jeff shook his head. "Gotta keep it interesting you know?"

"Do you sometimes do the uh," Thomas thought of how to put it. "You know, the funny accent with it?" He burst out laughing just thinking about it.

Everybody on the table were in heaps by the time they moved on from the topic.

"I'm gonna' buy a sandwich, you want one Thomas?" Brenda asked as she and Teresa stood up.

"Yeah thanks," he replied - forgetting how hungry he was during his classes.

Whilst Teresa and Brenda joined the queue, Sonya tapped Thomas on the shoulder. "Isn't that the British guy who said he was gonna' get laid?" She asked with her eyes lingering on a specific spot behind them. Thomas turned his head to see Newt and his usual group of friends walking (some of them practically bouncing off walls) down the street across from them. Like this morning, Newt was the only one with a cigarette.

"Smoking kinda' puts me off," Harriet admitted.

"As long as it doesn't ruin his accent, it's fine by me," Sonya grinned to which her friend giggled softly. Both Thomas and Jeff exchanged eye rolls and diverted their attention away from them.

"They had your favourite," Brenda placed a bacon and egg sandwich in front of Thomas. He made a pleased sound and thanked her before digging in. Jeff then pulled out various cans of soda.

"I always buy too many," he nodded towards them.

Thomas grabbed a Fanta. "Thanks mate," he said with his mouth already slightly full.

By the time he looked up from his sandwich, Thomas saw Newt and his group of friends hanging out on the patch of field connected to the park. Some of then were sitting and walking along the brick wall, whilst others lay back on the grass (drinking what looked like beer).

"You're staring," Brenda mumbled from her soda can. Thomas barely registered what she was accusing him of before denying it.

"No I wasn't," he said. "I was _observing_."

Brenda and the rest of the table laughed in obvious disbelief at his choice of words.

"Okay Thomas," Teresa sniggered. " _Observing_."

He contained as much of his bitchiness possible by proceeding to finish his sandwich, with an expression of that of a kid who's just been told by his mother that can't buy the candy he wanted.

The group went into a discussion about the rest of their classes and Jeff even told them what he was planning to be once he graduated. He said something about going to medical school to become a doctor, which Thomas found surprising. Both Harriet and Sonya admitted that they were interested in the modelling business, and somehow that reminded him of another pair of best friends that he knew.

Thomas noticed Teresa's expression change and he suddenly felt a shadowing presence next to him, the strong essence of cigarettes and leather. "Has anyone got a light?" It asked. Everyone's eyes were transfixed on this new arrival and Thomas didn't need to look to see who it was.

He did so anyway and he wasn't disappointed at what he saw.

Newt had his leather jacket slung over his shoulder, similar to when he walked in late for sociology. His lips were twisted into the tiniest hint of a smirk, but still noticeable nevertheless. Thomas' breath hitched at how close he was.

"Sorry mate, I don't think any of us smo-"

"-I've got one," Teresa interrupted Jeff before reaching into her _bra_ to pull it out.

_Girls still keep it there?_

She handed it to him with a very obvious glint in her eye, and Newt lit the cigarette between his lips - keeping eye contact with _her_ the whole time.

"Thank you," he said as he handed it back to her.

"My pleasure," she replied.

The sexual tension could be felt from a mile away. It was obvious that the rest of Newt's gang could sense what was going down, as a couple of them hooted and wolf-whistled from a few metres away. Everyone around the table looked back and forth between the two of them, but Thomas kept his eyes locked onto his phone.

"See you around," the blond said after exhaling a small cloud of smoke, to which the other boy almost gagged at the smell of. Thomas swore he could've felt a gentle tap on his back right before Newt made his exit, but decided to ignore that suspicion once conversation erupted once again.

"Teresa!" Brenda scoffed with a massive grin and raised eyebrows. Her friend just shrugged with a sly smile in response and sipped at her Pepsi. "You're unbelievable," Thomas' sister joked - shaking her head.

As Teresa continued to receive multiple gushed comments from Harriet and Sonya such as, "Get _in_ there T!", Thomas couldn't help but rethink what happened in sociology when Newt introduced himself.

Was it actually _Teresa_ he was looking at when he announced that he was "gonna' get laid" to the class? He felt ridiculously stupid just thinking about the possibility. Although, he was almost certain that it was _his_ eye Newt caught in that moment.

It seemed like nothing, but a big mind play the more he dwelled on it.

 

* * *

 

Everyone in the group exchanged numbers before dispersing from first day of college. For Thomas, it had already felt like he had been there for years.

"Text me!" Harriet yelled as her and Sonya waved goodbye. Teresa and Brenda smiled at them down the corridor where many students were collecting and storing belongings into their lockers.

Brenda sighed when she checked who texted her. "Mom's already asking me how it was," she showed her brother. Thomas was wondering why he didn't get one (and that is shocking when it came to his mom), but soon enough, his phone beeped - signalling that he had a text from his contact "birth giver" (Brenda made him save it as that). It was more or less the same as one she received, but his had an added heart emoji.

Thomas was tempted to reply with, _"There's this strange British guy in my sociology class that all the girls adore,"_ but decided against it.

"I still can't believe you flirted with that guy today," Brenda said with a hint of annoyance coming through in her voice. Thomas knew he'd be jealous too if he were in his sister's position.

"I wouldn't call it _flirting_ ," Teresa said, but her smug smile  as she leant against her locker didn't exactly support this.

"The way he looked at you said something else," Brenda mumbled.

Teresa threw her arm around her in an attempt to cheer her up. "C'mon B, don't get stroppy," she whined, "I'll let you have him if you want?"

Brenda rolled her eyes with a genuine grin and said it was fine. " _He's all yours T_ ," she teased.

Thomas' heart stopped beating for a split second when she said that, and he had no idea why.

"Hey, I gotta' pee," Thomas said to the giggling pair - deciding that he needed to get away from their current choice of conversation, "don't wait up."

It never surprised him how comfortable he was to be able to talk around them like that - especially Teresa. Then again, he has known her for over 5 years.

"I'll be in the car," Brenda started walking down the corridor with her arm still around her friend.

 

* * *

 

 Although it was utterly pathetic, accidentally meeting Newt in the boy's toilets had to be the main highlight of Thomas' day.

"Well hello," the Brit drawled out. He was drying his hands with a paper towel, but as soon as Thomas stepped in, everything he did seemed to be done a lot slower. It was the first time he saw the boy with his leather jacket _on_ and it made him feel some type of way.

"Hey," Thomas managed to say without croaking, "Newt right?"

Newt scoffed slightly as if to say, _"Who else?"_

"And you're Thomas?" He asked, squinting his eyes ever so slightly. Thomas nodded. _"The boy who likes pizza,"_ his voice dragged out every single word.

"That's me," Thomas kind of regretted saying that due to how cheesy it sounded, but then he started wondering why he cared so much about what he said. Newt threw the paper towel in the bin and the other boy couldn't help, but gaze in sudden interest at everything he did. The blond stood still for a second with his eyebrows furrowed as he leant back against the sink.

"I apologise for what happened at lunch today," he looked up at Thomas' waiting eyes.

The other teen thought back to earlier to try and conjure up anything possibly _bad_ that happened. The only moment he could think of, was when Teresa offered him the lighter. _Is he apologising for that?_   Thomas dreaded the idea.

However, Newt continued after Thomas' moment of not-knowing-what-to-say silence. "I practically smoked in your face and I could tell it was bothering you," he managed to sound genuine, but teasing at the same time. A sudden flashback of the horrid smell Thomas had to endure hit him, and he immediately felt pathetic for even considering the chances of it being about the other possibility.

"Oh!" he exclaimed, "no, don't worry about it. I hardly noticed," he lied.

Newt didn't look as if he believed him for a second, but then again, Thomas could hardly read him.

"Well," he diverted his gaze onto the tiled floor. Luckily, the awkwardness didn't have a chance to become unbearable any further as Newt pushed himself off the sink and made his way towards the door. "Say hi to Teresa for me," he muttered as he brushed past Thomas, creating friction that made his breathing uneven. The door squeaked shut and the boy was left with a mixture of emotions to sort out. He ended up standing for a few more minutes before leaving. He almost forgot that his sister was waiting for him in the car.

 

* * *

 

Teresa ended up hitching a ride with Thomas and Brenda, which is why he found her seated in the back once he arrived at the car. The sight of her triggered something in Thomas that didn't happen before his brief encounter with Newt. He hated to think it could be the possibility of _jealousy._ He doesn't even understand what there is to be jealous _of._

"What took you so long?" Brenda glanced up from her phone screen when Thomas sat himself in the driver's seat next to her.

"Sorry," he said, "I bumped into my sociology teacher and he wanted to know how my first day went," was what he came up with. To be perfectly honest, he had no idea _how_ he managed to lie that well. Unfortunately for him, he's never done as good in the past - with his mom especially.

"I like Alby," Teresa mumbled from the back. Thomas' body reacted weirdly and he perked up at the sound of her voice. Brenda didn't say anything, but continued tapping away on her phone. He seriously worried about her eyesight being affected nowadays.

Thomas drove out of the car park and once they were on the main road, he made the decision he debated non-stop in his head ever since the conversation with Newt had ended.

"Hey Teresa?" He asked. The girl made a close-mouthed noise as if to say, "Yeah?" as she was also preoccupied with her device.

Thomas swallowed and he mentally slapped himself for being so hesitant. He found that his mouth simply couldn't find the words he was challenging himself to say and he ended up backing out. "Nothing don't worry," he shook his head. In the rear-view mirror, Teresa glanced at him in slight curiosity and met his nervous gaze for a few seconds, but went back down to scroll through her newsfeed.

During the rest of the drive to Teresa's house, Thomas' mind was consumed with the thought of a certain British boy and _how the hell he had the ability to make him question everything he was so sure of._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave comments!


	4. chapter four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> thomas will probably regret this later on.

After his brief encounter with Newt in the boy's toilets, Thomas didn't know how to act around Teresa. Whenever he and Brenda met up with her each day at college and proceeded to hang out, he found himself thinking of anything possible to say, but everything he thought of didn't seem right; he still refused to think it was jealousy.

But of course, he had sociology again today - this meant the three of them all in the same room. Good.

"I'll see you later, okay?" Teresa closed her locker and waved at Brenda as she made her way to photography class. Thomas and Teresa then walked in silence until they were joined  by Harriet and Sonya.

"Hey!" Harriet smiled. Her and Teresa then engaged themselves into a conversation about something they texted each other last night. It must have been hilarious since they were laughing the whole way to sociology.

Sonya shoved Thomas' shoulder gently, "You okay?" she asked. Although he felt appreciative for the care she was showing, he realised he couldn't exactly explain his messed up dilemma with Teresa in front of them - he didn't even know if he was going to be able to tell _anyone_ for that matter.

"Yeah, just tired I guess," was the best thing he could think of. For a moment, he wished he had to the same amount of lying ability as he had yesterday when he made that unplanned excuse to Brenda. Thomas immediately regretted thinking that, when he remembered who he lied _for_. Sonya just nodded her head and didn't dwell on it any further, which Thomas was thankful for.

Once they reached the classroom door, Teresa was the first to enter. Unlike yesterday, there were already quite a lot of students filling up the spaces. Luckily their seats remained free, so Thomas assumed that everyone was sticking with the same places they had on the first day. As his eyes were quickly scanning the room, they paused on a particular boy seated at the back, grinning at something his friend was saying.

The small amount of light shining through the window made Newt's hair look as if it was glowing and it seemed to be better styled that day - less rugged. Thomas also noticed that his outfit was similar to what he wore yesterday, except this time he was wearing a light grey sweater. As much as he hated to admit it, _cuddly_ was the first and only word that popped into Thomas' head, and stayed there. The realisation of how he was actually _analysing_ Newt suddenly hit him, and he looked away to prevent any further embarrassment. Instead, he made his way to his desk next to Sonya. There he found Harriet grinning at Teresa.

"You think he's gonna' approach you?" She asked with far too much excitement.

Teresa rolled her eyes slightly, although her smile seemed to have different ideas, "I offered him a lighter Harriet," she said, "it's not like he's gonna' _propose_ to me."

Thomas hoped that the pangs of unknown emotion in his chest would stop soon.

Of course that possibility became unbelievably slim, as Newt took it upon himself to come over. The two girls' expressions changed vastly.

"Morning," his voice reminded Thomas of caramel - and he hated it.

Both of the girls were obviously giddy, but Teresa managed to cover hers up by putting on a façade. "Morning," she said. Her eyelids fluttered close, but opened slowly so that all of Newt's attention was on her ocean blues. That turned out to be another thing Thomas found himself becoming envious of.

"Sorry for being so irritating, but I don't suppose you have a free pencil you could lend me?" The tone of which he spoke in, remained calm and smooth.

Teresa's lips turned up into the smallest of smiles and she dug into her bag to get one out. "Here," she handed it to him and returned to having her chin rested in the palm of her hand. Her position made her look dreamy, but seductive at the same time (if Thomas was right in thinking).

Newt muttered his thanks and remained eye contact until his back was facing them and he was returning to his seat, where Minho sat with a knowing expression. As Harriet and Teresa exchanged raised eyebrows and smirks, Thomas sat there with a mind-consuming thought.

He was for certain that _that_ time wasn't his imagination - not like yesterday at lunch. That was definitely Newt's hand softly touching Thomas' back right before he left. He didn't even try and fight the affect it had on him; the warmth the contact had made him feel was undeniable. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

"I'm expecting you all to start remembering the things I tell you," Alby announced as the students were starting to rise from their seats, "no slacking off - this isn't high school anymore."

Even though Thomas wasn't planning to (for most of the time), he still took the comment into slight consideration as he started packing away. His notebook already had pages full of notes from his first proper sociology class, and Thomas could sense the many cups of coffees he would be needing later on when studying.

"Let's go to Starbucks," Harriet suggested, "there's one not far from here."

The rest of group, including Thomas, agreed quite easily; it seemed that everyone was craving coffee today just as much as him.

On the way out of the classroom, Newt held the door open as Teresa practically stroked past him - the scene make Thomas want to roll his eyes, but of course someone would probably notice (and that someone would probably be Newt). He took his time storing his notebooks into his bag before slinging it over his shoulder and making his way towards the door - which was still being held open by Newt.

The brunet could feel the other boy's eyes burning into him as he walked straight past, as he was the last one leave within his group. Thomas felt the slightest hint of contact between his shoulder and Newt's chest, but tried his hardest to ignore how it made his breath hitch so unwillingly.

"You're welcome," Newt muttered. Thomas acted as if he didn't hear, but to Newt it was definitely obvious that he did.

Once out of the classroom, he noticed that Sonya was waiting for him with her usual perky smile. "The rest of them went to get seats before it got too busy," she explained to him as they started walking.

"You didn't have to wait," Thomas said, although he was glad she did. Sonya simply shrugged and brightened her grin.

"I felt kind of bad, y'know," she always spoke with a graceful tone, Thomas noticed. He wondered how she could be best friends with such a different girl like Harriet.

Then, as if Sonya was reading his mind, said, "Teresa and Harriet have been getting kinda' close lately," she sounded as if she talking to herself. The sadness of which her voice contained a hint of, suggested that she was indeed down about the matter.

"I'm pretty sure it's because of Newt," Thomas found himself saying, "they're both obsessed with him."

Sonya agreed, "I guess," she sighed, "but I hope Harriet realises that it's Teresa he likes."

Thomas swallowed as he felt another pang to his chest, and started gazing at his walking feet on the ground instead - afraid that he'll expose any of the strange nervousness that he felt, on his face. _You don't like him_ , he yelled at himself.

"Doesn't she know?" He managed to speak without stuttering, "I mean it's obvious," as much as he hated to admit it out loud.

"It looks to me as if she has a small crush on him, too," Sonya pondered, "I might be wrong though."

Thomas wanted to say something along the lines of, _"but you're her best friend - you can probably read her like a book_ ," but realised that that might upset her further and make her think more about Teresa instead. _Teresa._

Why was Thomas finding himself hating the sound of that name each time he heard it?

 

 

* * *

 

 

He went there for a nice, cool soy latte with his friends - _not_ to find Newt and the rest of his gang sitting _with_ them.

"Thomas! Sonya!" Brenda called them both over as they entered the busy coffee shop, filled with mostly students - including _them._

"Hey?" Thomas said it as more of a question as both he and Sonya looked at her in the same way as saying, _"What the hell are they doing here?"_

All of Newt's group were chatting and laughing loudly around the number of tables positioned together. Some of them looked friendly enough up-close, but Thomas felt slightly disheartened at the thought of a coffee now that they were here to raise the volume. His eyes fell upon Newt as he was looking quite cosy with Teresa beside him - Thomas definitely felt disheartened now. They made eye contact whilst the girl was explaining something rather detailing to him - her hands cupping her warm, paper container as she occasionally rolled her eyes whilst she spoke - and Newt somehow managed to make Thomas feel completely exposed within a matter of seconds before proceeding his attention back onto whatever Teresa was saying.

"Come sit," Brenda gestured towards two free chairs near the middle of the table, across from where Newt and Teresa sat. One of the boys from his gang pulled out Sonya's chair before she sat and she thanked him under her shy breath. Thomas realised that he was seated next to Minho, the one whom calls himself " _Newt's best friend_." The Asian gave him a friendly nod.

"Minho," he stuck out his free hand as the other one was wrapped around his own drink, "you're Thomas right?"

"Sure am," Thomas shook it. Minho somehow wasn't what he expected him to be - he seemed a lot more chilled than what he gave off in sociology. He was wearing a shirt that showed off his muscular arms, and his jet-black hair was gelled into perfection.  _Are_ _all the boy's in this gang flawless or something?_

"I haven't really had a chance to meet you," Minho confessed, "I hope we're not intruding," he took a sip of his drink with raised eyebrows in questioning at Thomas.

"No, not at all," he lied, "in a way I'm kinda' glad you did."

The Asian smiled softly and looked a lot more relaxed in his seat.

"Does anyone want anything?" Suddenly Newt spoke up, causing Thomas to shoot his eyes up at him as the other boy stood from his chair, "I'm paying."

 _Of course he's probably loaded,_ Thomas thought as he watched Teresa gazing fondly up at him. He hated stereotypes more than anything, but he couldn't help, but think that Newt lived in the fucking Buckingham Palace judging by the way he just casually offered his money around. Like Thomas expected, the table of teens cheered and whooped at the smirking blond before ordering a load of different drinks and small deserts - Newt started tapping them into his IPhone like he was a waiter.

He glanced up suggestively at Thomas, "And you, Tommy?" He asked.

Thomas contained his jumpiness about the nickname, and instead answered with, "Iced latte," maintaining all the possible eye contact he could endure.

Whilst the rest of the group were back into normal chit chat, Newt tapped the order with his thumbs before asking, "Any flavours?"

Thomas requested vanilla because, _what else?_ and the blond's lips kept at a slight angle upwards, creating a tiny, but noticeable grin. "Very good," he muttered as he finished typing. Newt travelled around the table to the counter situated at the back of the café.

"Cheers, mate," a couple of the boy's patted him on the arm as he passed them. Thomas couldn't tell if they were thanking him for the _drinks_ , or the fact that they didn't have to pay themselves.

Probably both.

 

* * *

 

Thomas didn't realise how much was ordered from everyone, until there were several baristas making their way towards the table with multiple trays of drinks and food. It turns out that Newt had paid them a bit extra to carry them over themselves.

"Jesus," Thomas muttered; Minho laughed.

"Don't worry," he said, "His parents are loaded. They couldn't care less about what he spends his money on."

Thomas' heart sank slightly. "At all?" He asked with furrowed eyebrows; he didn't want to believe it was as saddening as Minho made it out to be.

The well-built teen thanked the barista who handed him his drink before glancing at Thomas. "They're probably  _delighted_ about him giving it away like this," he told him, "That's how _they_ were raised anyway."

With each piece of information that was given to him, Thomas realised more and more how much stuff Minho actually _knew_ about Newt; he couldn't fight the feeling of envy that crept throughout his body as he kept wishing that the Brit wasn't such a mystery to him.

"Your vanilla iced latte, sir," Thomas heard the guy himself say cheekily behind him - a hand reaching down to place his drink in front of him. The brunet thanked him quietly and he could practically feel the amused expression lingering around Newt before he walked back to his seat next to Teresa. Throughout the whole of that short scene, she was watching them almost like a hawk, but not out of jealousy - more like curiosity.

A chorus of "thanks, Newt" were heard around the table of teens drinking and munching their already-paid-for Starbucks, and Thomas tasted sweet delight as he took the first sip of his. Of course, that may have been because it was favourite order, but just maybe it was also because Newt paid extra for something else (a.k.a. making sure that Thomas' order was to be perfected with extra vanilla).

Newt's sight lingered on the brunet as his dopey eyes softened during the first sip of his iced latte. He shook off the content it had caused, and turned to face Teresa, who was enjoying the specially-made frappe he had gotten her.

On the other side of Newt, a chuckling boy with a unique-looking face pointed towards Thomas. "Okay, okay," he laughed and attempted to quieten his friend beside him who also had a wide grin on his face. "Thomas, right?" The boy asked, to which Thomas nodded - kind of scared as to what was needed off of him. Instead of tormenting him like he thought he would, Thomas noticed that the boy's eyes were scanning him up and down in fast, suggestive motions. _He's checking me out_ , Thomas screamed internally. He tried to cover up the embarrassment by taking another long sip of his drink and trying to look anywhere but the other teen's face. The boy introduced himself as Gally.

"Your eyes are really beautiful," he muttered. The brunette almost choked on his latte, but managed to save himself. Thomas' eyes slightly squinted in confusion at the boy who's attractive expression was soft. _Is he seriously flirting right now?_

The whole table now discarded any discussions they were having and leaned in to watch the current situation going down - Thomas wanted oh-so-badly to die right there and then.

Newt began watching.

"Kinda' like chocolate," Gally informed. The friend next to him grunted into his empty cup and Thomas could feel a smile threatening to creep onto his face as Gally shoved the friend in the arm, mumbling, "Shut up, you're ruining it."

The other boy laughed and informed him, "Mate, it's already _been_ ruined," to which the entire table scoffed with amusement. Gally's hand rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and confessed that he and a couple others had a bet to see if he could _woo_ Thomas with his "flirting skills" (as he called them). Thomas told him that it was fine, but he should seriously come up with new pickup lines, to which Gally and the other boys teased him about non-stop.

 _That was another strange first encounter_ , Thomas thought to himself.

Soon enough, Minho tapped him on the shoulder and they continued with their previous conversation, except the topic was changed to something less Newt-related. Instead, the Asian asked him what classes he was taking apart from sociology and so on. Thomas' eyes kept on desperately wanting to glance at the blond across from him, but his brain said otherwise. He realised that he didn't manage to witness what Newt's expression was like during the pathetic attempt at flirting between him and Gally.

 

* * *

 

"We should hang out more often," Minho was the first to speak once they exited the coffee shop, as the time was nearing the start of all of their next classes. Because the rest of the group of boys bounded off (including Jeff), and Brenda and Harriet had to scurry away for their health and social class, there was only Thomas, Teresa and Sonya standing in front of Minho and Newt.

"Yeah that'd be cool," Teresa agreed, although Thomas figured she sounded so willing because of her new British _friend_.

Newt stood with his leather jacket now on, as he sparked up a light on the cigarette situated between his thin lips. As he exhaled, his eyes lingered on Thomas.

"Hey we better get going," Sonya was looking down at her phone which had the time, "Chemistry's 'bout to start." Ever since she received the number off of the boy who pulled out her chair for her, she had an extra ounce of excitement that was obvious within her tone.

Thomas sighed at the thought of chemistry. That was a subject he _loathed_ , even when studying it in high school. Of course now, he disliked it even more since the new teacher was a total dickhead. Brenda, along with the help of mom, convinced him to take it because they insisted it had the ability to, _"open up doors to different career choices."_   Minho raised his eyebrows and a smirk played on his lips as he noticed Thomas' slouched posture. As the three of them started walking away, he spoke up.

"Newt and I are planning to skip afternoon classes if you're interested?" He asked. "With a couple of these idiots as well, obviously," he cocked his head in the direction of the rest of the group, who were too busy pulling down each other's pants to acknowledge the fact that he was talking about them.

"But unless you wanna' go to your classes," Minho shrugged.

Teresa's eyes glinted and she announced, "I'm in."

Sonya, however, apologised and said that she, "kinda' _has_ to go to her classes," without giving any proper explanation as to why.

Now it was Thomas' decision. Deep down, his mind was telling him the obvious: don't go - simple. If he does go, he'll end up regretting it for sure. He came to college with the intention of attending his classes; not bunking off of them with a group of scandalous boys he literally only just met. Thomas thought back to what Alby said about "no slacking off", and how he admitted to taking that advice into consideration. But then, he caught Newt's challenging stare that made his heart stop, and that advice was long gone down the never-ending drain.

Fuck it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave comments!  
> i'll apologise before-hand for the slow updates that are sure to come, but i'll try my best!


	5. chapter five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> thomas regrets, kinda.

Thomas knew that he was going to regret skipping classes. He just knew.

And now here he was, stood with two boys of whom he just met, and three other strangers from their gang of wild-like friends - he learnt that their names were Ben, Winston and Frypan. According to Minho, they nicknamed him that because of his insane catering skills. "Especially his crème brulee," Winston had added with a smile. Thomas found himself feeling surprised at what was hidden underneath what seemed like, a couple of bashful college boys. It was then, that he finally experienced the meaning of "don't judge a book by its cover".

Ben also turned out to be the one who had pulled Sonya's chair out for her, and had exchanged his number with the girl.

"So what do you guys do for fun?" Teresa asked with the remainder of her Starbucks drink clutched in her hand. All seven of them were currently where Thomas had seen them during lunch, when they were sitting outside the café - Teresa had her hip cocked out as she leant against the high, brick wall.

Minho glanced up at her with a tiny smirk before replying with, "Drink, usually," he drawled out, "Of course, _other_ substances can be involved," he added (much to Thomas' instant disliking).

Next to him, he could feel Teresa perk up, "Like?" She asked him slyly.

Thomas felt disheartened at the fact that he now saw this group as nothing, but a pack of druggies. Just a few moments ago, they were talking about nicknames and special talents; now they were bringing up the subject of getting high like it was a hobby. He knew it shouldn't let it change his perception of them all, but he couldn't help, but see Minho and the other three a little bit differently. For some reason, it didn't exactly shock Thomas when it came to Newt; the blonde somehow came off as one of those people that would get high on the daily.

"Whatever we can get our hands on," Minho told the curious girl, to which her grin widened. Thomas rolled his eyes before he even knew what he was doing, and immediately regretted it. Across from him, Newt sent him a smirk to confirm that he had just witnessed the action - almost as if he was watching Thomas the whole time in order to see it. The brunette quickly looked away and instead focused on Minho.

However, Newt spoke up with his cigarette being held lazily between his fingers. "Only sometimes," he said. He was gazing at Teresa, but something in Thomas' mind convinced him that he was aiming the sentence at someone else instead. Newt added, "Most of the time is just spent hanging around," before bringing his cigarette to his lips and slowly inhaling.

"Oh," Teresa raised her eyebrows, but didn't look in any way disheartened, "Maybe you can count this as an exception?" She asked playfully. Thomas could clearly see the way she twisted her lips into a grin. And he could also see the way Newt's own smirk maintained as he tapped the lingering ash off of the end of his cigarette.

Teresa was always into drugs; of course Thomas' mum never knew that about her during her multiple stays in his house. Brenda always tried to convince her out of it, but she constantly told her she _"wasn't an addict or anything,"_ and that practically "everyone" does it. And in some ways Thomas agreed with her. It wasn't as if she was intoxicated 24/7, but it was still enough to get anxious for her.

Ben ended up speaking instead of Newt.

"I know someone if you're interested," he said.  
"More like I _introduced_ you to him," Thomas heard the Brit mumble under his breath; he fought the temptation to smile.

Teresa beamed at Ben, "Sure," she said.

Thomas still found it hard to believe that they were actually talking about illegal drugs (because of the way they were speaking with such a casual tone, he almost forgot).

"Thomas," Ben grasped his attention, "you in?" The boy asked as Teresa travelled to situate herself by his side.

Thomas could feel a nearby gaze practically burning into his skin, but ignored it as he answered with, "Nah, not really into that." He knew it made him sound like a chicken, but Ben didn't seem to mind as he nodded and gave a simple, "Suit yourself," before wandering away with Teresa. He claimed that they'll be back later, not giving a specific time. But then, Teresa will probably want to make the most of whatever time there was; she hadn't managed to get her hands on any substances for a while, so there was no wonder why she seemed extra giddy whilst beginning her journey across the field with Ben.

Thomas continued to maintain his eye contact on the two of them until they disappeared round a sharp corner, completely out of sight.

"I never saw you as one of those people," Minho suddenly turned up next to Thomas. Once he had just processed what the Asian just said, he didn't whether to take it as an insult or a compliment, so instead he shrugged.

"Told you, it's not my thing," the brunette claimed. Minho's expression turned into amusement and his eyes crinkled as he smiled.

"It's not your thing, or you just haven't tried it?" He asked teasingly. At that, Thomas froze and didn't know how to answer. Because Minho was _right_. He had never actually taken any form of drugs, even at parties - usually he would just get drunk, but never high. He just put any possibility of that happening, away. Of course now, in college, things may be different. The thought made Thomas' heart skip with mixed emotions.

"I'm guessing that means you haven't tried it," Minho laughed at Thomas' moment of silence during long thought, then shrugged playfully. "It's pretty awesome," the boy grinned subtly.

Thomas wanted to roll his eyes again, but figured that would rude to do so before even experiencing a high himself. He looked around him, trying to ignore how uncomfortable the current conversation made him feel, to see Winston pull out a couple of beers from his bag - chucking some into the clutches of Newt and Frypan. The blonde cracked open the tab of the can with one hand - _cocky way of doing things,_ Thomas secretly thought - before smothering out his cigarette with the bottom of his shoe and taking a gulp of the drink.

Everything he did seemed to grasp Thomas' full attention, and it reminded him of how he felt during 'the boy's toilets encounter' the other day. It wasn't until Newt looked up, that Thomas immediately blinked and quickly turned away, receiving his own can of beer courtesy of Winston. He had moved so that he was now seated against the wall, with the others scattered in places like on top of the wall and leant back on the grass. It made Thomas wonder, as he was now part of the scene of which he was looking at from afar not that long ago.

Upon taking his first gulp of the beverage, a thought hit Thomas and he didn't know for the life of him, why he actually spoke it aloud.

"Surely alcohol is a form of drug," he said whilst scanning his can. 

All four of the boys broke out into laughs and Minho scoffed, "What?" With his shoulders shaking from chuckles.

Thomas found himself grinning, "I mean, people get addicted to it," he told them, "and it changes the way your mind and body behaves - like drugs," he added.

Then it went silent. The rest of the group, even Newt, changed their expressions so that their eyebrows were furrowed in what looked like, confusion. Winston cocked his head and announced, "Maybe he's right," glancing at Minho.

Thomas burst out into laughter upon seeing all of their hilarious realisations. "Yeah I'm right," he agreed with a smirk.

The brunette then took another sip of the beer whilst scanning his surroundings. His gaze landed on Newt.

Thomas' heart started pounding at how the boy was looking at him; almost as if he was trying to reach his soul within his deep, hazel eyes. For some unknown reason, the staring contest maintained, as did Thomas' wild and uncontrollable beating within his chest; he was almost certain that it was audible from the outside. It was as if he was in a trance under the maintenance of Newt, as the blonde sat with his arms rested upon his bent legs - his expression soft. _Fond._

Of course, Minho had to intervene sooner or later.

"I need food," he moaned from his lying position on the grass.

Newt blinked and that was all it took to lose the affect they once had on Thomas moments ago. He frowned at the teen and said, "I just bought you food from Starbucks you piece of shit."

Winston and Frypan scoffed, but Thomas was too busy getting over what had just happened (in other words, he was currently attempting desperately to calm down his racing heart before it possibly explodes).

"I mean _McDonalds_ ," the Asian announced.

 

* * *

 

And so here they were - in a nearby McDonalds.

Minho set the tray of food down onto their table with delight; that much was obvious from his beaming smile.

Whilst Newt was paying (not surprising by this point), Thomas had noticed him pulling out a swanky-looking debit card. Neither Minho or any of the others questioned it, so Thomas assumed that they were used to seeing it on a daily basis. Or maybe they just didn't care. Either way, the worker behind the cashier raised his eyebrows as if to say _"get you,"_ whist glancing at his monitor after Newt had slotted the card into the machine, so he guessed there must have been a good load of money within it. Thomas wasn't going to lie, it made the Brit more intriguing to him.

Winston texted Ben to say where they were, and he received a message back within minutes, along with plenty of spelling mistakes to say that they would be there in ten. Thomas hoped that the fact that Ben was able to send a text, meant that they couldn't have been _that_ stoned.

 

* * *

 

Of course, Thomas was wrong - something he found to be quite normal for him at this point.

As soon as the entrance of the fast food restaurant opened, a giggling, stumbling Teresa wandered in with her new pal, Ben. He didn't seem to be as gone as she was, but he still had a cheeky, lazy grin upon his face as they both made their way clumsily to the group's table.

"Guyyss," Ben drawled out once they practically fell into their seats.

Thomas, for some reason, looked across to Newt in order to see his reaction. The blonde's eyebrows were raised and his expression didn't seem impressed; unlike Frypan and Winston who were shaking their heads with amused smiles at their fellow stoned friend.

Minho was scoffing on some fries as he said, "Exactly _how_ much did you take?"

Thomas was glad that someone else seemed to notice how far off the two of them were; too far off for the boy's liking if he was being honest.

Teresa fiddled with her hair as the giggling died down, and was instead replaced with drowsiness. "Not much," she sighed, "Ben's friend was really nice. He just kept giving me stuff," by the end of her sentence, her voice was as airy as it could get and her eyelids were sinking in a way that even made Thomas feel droopy.

"And did you pay him?" Newt looked questioningly at Teresa seated next to him, who looked as if she was seconds away from passing out. The blonde however, clicked his fingers in front of the girl's face. "Teresa?" He asked, sounding impatient.

She rubbed one of her closed eyes, causing more of her heavy makeup to smudge messily across her skin. "I think Ben did," she said. After that, she rested her head onto Newt's arm which was leant on the table - wrapping it with both her arms as she started to fiddle with his fingers. If anyone was watching Thomas in that moment, they would have seen a glowering boy with his coffee-coloured eyes set alight in envy. Envy? Was that the right word?

Winston and Frypan's laughing came to an immediate stop as soon as they met Newt's warning stare. Frypan coughed to hide his nervousness whilst Winston attempted to look anywhere, but the Brit's threatening gaze. All Thomas could compare it to, was the look he had been given earlier when they were seated on the field. Completely different, but he was uncertain as of how - it had the same amount of intensity.

"Ben?" Newt questioned the boy, who was too busy building a tower out of straws to notice he was being called. "Ben," the blonde's voice became stern and that cause the teen to look up, his expression innocent. Newt sounded patient, "Did you pay Jorge?" He made sure that he pronounced each word clearly. It made Thomas think that he was used to going through this particular routine.

Ben squinted his eyes as he concentrated on a specific spot on the table. "Jorge," he drawled the said name out, and Newt sighed. From how stressed the blonde was being, it was obvious that this Jorge guy wasn't someone to mess with. "Yeah I paid him," Ben furrowed his eyebrows and continued working on the tower of straws threatening to collapse. Thomas turned his attention back onto Teresa and found her asleep on Newt's arm, one of hers still lazily drooped around it as dark strands of her hair fell on her face.

Newt nodded slightly and he seemed to relax. As his eyes met the passed out girl laying on his arm, they hardened as if he just realised she was there. "Someone drive her home," he said sternly - gently moving Teresa to rest her weight onto the table instead.

Winston stood up, "I'll get my car," he announced. Thomas quickly spoke up - realising the easier solution.

"It's fine. I will," he said whilst rising out of his chair. Winston and Newt both looked at him questioningly. "I'll tell Brenda what happened. She stays over at our house all the time and our mom's used to it," Thomas told them. From the corner of his eye, he could see Newt scanning him as if he was deciding whether or not to approve the idea before nodding.

"Whatever," he mumbled. "Just get her to a bloody bed."

Thomas was surprised and confused at the grumpiness that had suddenly overcome the boy, but tried to ignore it as he said, "I'll drive my car over."

 

* * *

 

Thomas texted Brenda on the way back to McDonalds after he jogged back to Gladen to reach his car. By the time he got back to the fast-food restaurant, it was almost the time of which her last class ended. He tried to come up with the most subtle text, but all he could come up with was "Teresa's stoned and passed out. Will drive her to our house," which wasn't as sugar-coated as Thomas had hoped. However, what he received back was a simple "pick me up first in case mom's there." And that was why he was relieved to have Brenda there to remind him of such obvious things. Being a supply teacher, their mom's work days vary, so they both never really knew whether or not she was going to be at home or not when they got back from school.

He walked into the building and noticed that Teresa was still lying in the same position as he had seen her before leaving, breathing evenly. Minho's eyes landed on him and announced that he would help carry her to his car.

An elderly couple furrowed their eyebrows at the sight of him heaving her over his shoulder, but he simply stated, "Too much studying," whilst chuckling nervously. They looked at each other and shook their heads, but didn't question it any further as Minho and Thomas passed them by. The other boys raised from their seats and followed them on the way out; even Ben, although his stumbling didn't go unnoticed as the elderly couple continued to silently judge the rest of the group until they left the building.

Minho packed Teresa into the back of the car before slamming the door closed. "You sure your mom's gonna' be okay with her?" He asked as his eyes met Thomas'.

"We'll have to sneak her into Brenda's room if she's even there," the brunette replied. "But we'll just tell her that she slept over," he added.

"Good that," Minho mumbled and ran a hand carefully through his well-styled jet black hair. "I just don't want this to.." he paused and shuffled his feet as he thought of how to put it, " _change_ anything," he said. Thomas opened his mouth, but didn't exactly know what he was planning to say.

He finally settled onto the thought of, "Why would it change anything?" But assured Minho before he could answer. "This is normal for Teresa y'know," he told him with a small smile.

Minho nodded and sighed, "I'm just worried that this.. gave off a bad impression of us."

Thomas wasn't going to lie, he did admit to changing his perception of the group once the topic of getting high became involved, but his heart warmed at the amount of care Minho showed. "It's _fine_ ," Thomas insisted.

Whilst the two of them were exchanging genuine grins, Newt came over.

"Thanks for driving her," his grumpiness seemed to have disappeared.

Thomas shrugged, "No problem," his voice flat as he met the blonde's eyes.

Newt lingered as if to say something, but instead nodded and touched Minho's arm as he grazed past him towards a waiting Frypan and Winston. "I'm going to Jorge's," he called out at them, to which they both nodded casually. The Brit travelled out of the parking lot and down the street before turning a corner, out of sight.

Thomas blinked and was knocked out of his trance when Minho waved his hand in front of his face. "Sorry?" Thomas asked.

The other boy shook his head and laughed softly, "Thanks again," he said - turning his back to meet up with the other two.

"See ya' tomorrow!" Frypan yelled and stuck up his hand as the three of them walked further away. Thomas returned the gesture before diverting his attention onto his car and sighing. The car with the stoned and passed out Teresa in it.

 

* * *

 

 

Brenda's reaction seemed calm enough; calmer than Thomas was expecting.

After shutting the passenger door, she swivelled half her body around in order to inspect the unconscious girl in the back. She sighed and told Thomas to drive, to which he didn't hesitate to do so.

They left the school parking lot and began travelling the main route towards their house. A few minutes went by before Brenda spoke. "Where did she get them from?" She maintained her eyes on the road in front of her. Thomas knew that she was referring to the drugs and he quickly remembered a brief name.

"Guy named Jorge," he said. "I didn't meet him."

His sister didn't react in any way, but instead shifted slightly in her seat and looked out of her window. "Thought she was getting better," Thomas heard her mumble regretfully. And it was true. Both the siblings were almost convinced that Teresa's months of being sober had knocked any thoughts of intoxicating herself ever again, but sadly not. The boy then felt a horrid pang of responsibility; it was in fact, _him_ who had let her walk away with Ben after his offering. Brenda hadn't brought up any sort of clarification towards that however, and Thomas prayed that she didn't hope to.

The car came to a stop at a red light and Brenda suddenly called out, "Oh my god!"

Thomas shot his head in the direction of which she was looking at out of her passenger window, and he peered to see what had shocked her and his expression changed to that of horror.

Newt. It was Newt caught in what looked like, a violent gang fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments are appreciated!  
> (hope you enjoyed/hated the cliff-hanger^.^)


	6. chapter six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> thomas isn't sure why he does things anymore.

Thomas' breathing became disturbingly uneven at the sight of it. There were at least four muscly men swinging their fists in all directions, yet Newt managed to block most of them with obvious struggle. It was only when one of them made severe contact with the blonde's jaw - causing him to stumble uncontrollably - that Thomas jumped out of his car. He didn't care about the line of others waiting behind him at the (now green) light.

"Thomas!" Brenda yelled after him and attempted to reach out to grab his jacket, but the boy was already striding half-way across the street towards the fight. He heard her voice call after him again as she exited the car as well.

The temptation to stop walking lingered horribly in Thomas' mind - threatening him to stop right there and then. Behind him, people in awe were videoing the whole thing with their phones; some of them dialling the police no doubt - not daring to interrupt. _That's probably the smarter option_ , Thomas thought. That idea in his mind didn't put a pause on his legs however. He didn't know what he was going to do exactly. One thing he _did_ know, was that proceeding to watch his friend get beaten to a bloody pulp was not an option. Definitely not.

"Hey!" He was surprised at the violence his tone seemed to be take over. It came out more aggressive than he intended, but then again, since _when in the hell_ has he ever been in this kind of situation?

The sudden interruption caused one of the men to stop his fist mid-air from swinging into Newt's face - already bleeding from multiple areas. The Brit looked up at Thomas and his eyebrows furrowed; silently questioning what he was doing there. The way he looked at him however, reminded Thomas of the same one that made his heart stop ever so suddenly. The blonde spat (most certainly mixed with blood) and wiped his bloody lip as he shoved off the current bulky person who was gripping one of his arms. 

"Ayee, _hermano_ ," a dark-skinned man with a thick accent drawled whilst giving a taunting grin; he looked as if he was _enjoying_ this act of causing pain towards a single boy - he probably was judging by the dark aura that seemed to surround him. He reached out and pushed Newt's shoulder which only made the blonde more aggravated as he refused to make eye contact with the intimidator. The man looked around his early-thirties and he wore a loose-fitting, denim jacket. His eyes contained mostly menace, as well as his voice.

"Get outta' here before we punch the livin' daylights outta' ya', _kid_ ," a gruff sound with a lazy way of speaking threatened behind Thomas, but he completely ignored him. His eyes were fixated on Newt, who was running a hand through his hair and forcefully shoving any of the guys away who were attempting to grab him. The Hispanic stranger clicked his fingers however, and that was all it took for them to stop; his vision though, was 100% focused on Thomas.

"Don't  _speak_ for me, Jack," he said tightly - accent full of obvious threat. After that, said Jack stayed silent.h

Thomas glanced back and forth between the dark-skinned man in front of him, and the blonde boy who was currently being given death stares that could literally _kill_. Newt didn't seem to be affected in any way concerning fear; he gave ones just as deadly back to them.

"What is your name, _hermano_?" The what-seemed-like leader of the gang asked. Although he had a smile upon his face, it seemed more of a simple twist of his lips. And the question didn't seem like a friendly greeting - more like a demand.

"Thomas," he muttered, although he didn't know why he just told him. Most of his attention was still concentrated on whether or not any further damage was going to be done to the Brit. For a split second, Newt's eyes seemed to graze over Thomas before the boy continued wiping at his bottom lip.

"Well, _Thomas_ ," the Hispanic man practically whispered; it sent the other boy a shiver from the way he repeated his name and he hated it. He hated how the stranger was always full of pure mockery whenever he spoke. And he hated how it never failed to have some sort of manipulative affect on him. "I suggest you walk away," he said. "I wouldn't want any harm coming to the wrong person. Especially not someone as pretty as you," the mockery coming alive once again.

The strange flirting had almost become normal for the teen at this point.

"I don't want any harm coming to my _friend_ either," Thomas managed to say aloud. Newt looked up with subtle, but true surprise at him.

"Of course you don't," the man replied with a smirk that could only mean trouble. "But I'm afraid this is of no concern to you, so I'll say it again," he leaned forward - his height acting as a slight advantage - until his face was inches away from Thomas'. So close that the brunette could almost see the wildness in his eyes. "Walk away," he said.

"Leave, Thomas," Newt spoke up.

The boy almost gasped at the sudden voice which was mute the whole time he had been there. Thomas made eye contact with the blonde, who now looked exhausted and honestly done with the whole situation. If he left now, what would become of him exactly?

"You're coming with," Thomas said to him as he reached out and practically dragged Newt along with him before any of the guys could react.

"Thomas!" Newt shouted in protest. He could feel the boy's struggle, but ignored it as he pushed through the crowds. The strength within Newt had dimmed due to the fighting that was occurring just a few moments ago and by the time they reached the car, he had simply allowed himself to slouch onto the back seat once climbing in. Thomas could feel Brenda's concerned looks, but returned into her seat as well - not daring to return the curious gazes from the public.

As he slammed the driver's door closed, he glanced up to see the Hispanic man staring right back at him - his piercing eyes sent a chill that reached Thomas' spine even from afar. The brunette grumbled as multiple vehicles beeped at him from behind and he started up the engine. "Shut up," he mumbled at the disturbances. 

The whole time Thomas was driving quite hurriedly down the road, Brenda sent a glare towards him of pure disbelief and shook her head. "That was _stupid_ Thomas," she muttered harshly. "What if you got hurt, huh?" She raised her voice. 

The brother kept his stare on the road ahead of him, but deep down, he knew that what she was saying was absolutely true; even Thomas was thinking the exact same thing as he strode towards the gang in the first place. _Why did he do that again?_

"Not likely," he heard a Brit say factually from the back. 

_Oh yeah._

Thomas' heart rate started to slowly increase due to the sudden sound of Newt's voice, and he began to realize how silly he must seem in the other boys' perspective. After all, he did quite literally _force_ him into the back of his car as if he was kidnapping him.  

Brenda whipped her head around so fast, Thomas was for certain she was going to get whiplash. "And why's that?" She barked at him. The sense of a strong disliking lingered heavily in the air - along with tension far too uncomfortable for the brunette's liking. 

Newt glanced up from where he was studying his bruised knuckles before answering with, "It's me they're after." 

Brenda's eyebrows were furrowed, but not in confusion - more like subtle frustration and scoffed as she turned her head back around. "Then why the hell are you in this car?" She remarked. 

"Because otherwise, he would've gotten beaten to _death_ , Brenda," Thomas found himself sounding a lot more harsh than what he had intended, but he couldn't stand to listen to his sister's spiteful words any longer. After that remark, Thomas' sister didn't shy away; she instead stayed silent and remained her eyes on the road in front of them - the car mostly mute, apart from the smooth rumbling of the wheels against the ground. 

As Thomas flicked his eyes towards the rear view mirror, dark, chestnut ones were staring right back at him and the brunette almost swore that his heart stopped for a full second; it never failed to shock Thomas as to how much the other boy effected him so deeply. He quickly looked away, as well as hoping that his nervousness was not showing in that moment. But if the teen was being completely honest with himself, how could Newt _not_ see it? By this point, Thomas had learnt that the boy saw everything, whether it was shown by physical appearance or not.

"Mom's at work," Brenda muttered. The lowered volume at which she was speaking pained Thomas, and made him realize how much he wasn't used to her talking like that. The news about their mom came as a great relief however, as it made the Newt situation a lot easier for all of them. 

"Just drive me home," the blonde said. His tone had confidence, but at the same time, it had something extremely casual about it. 

"Are you sure?" Thomas asked; he glanced in the rear view mirror again, this time actually _searching_ for Newt's eyes, "What are your parents gonna' say about..." he raised one of his hands in front of his face and waved it about; he hoped that that was clear enough as to what he was trying to put across. 

Newt scoffed so gently, it almost went unheard.

Thomas knew that in that moment, he shouldn't pry. "I'll drive you to ours anyway," he decided. From behind him, he could sense the other boy studying him, but nothing was said after that.

 

* * *

 

 

"Bathroom's upstairs to your right," Thomas told the boy once the door leading into his house had shut, "in case you wanna' clean up a bit," he felt as if he was rambling by the time he had finished that sentence. Newt however, was already trudging up the stairs before any awkward silences could occur. 

After keeping his eyes locked onto the back of the blonde until he was out of sight, Thomas turned around to see his sister with an almost unreadable expression; the only thing the boy could grasp from it was anxiousness. "Brenda-" Thomas started.

"- I just don't feel comfortable with him in our house, okay?" She spoke in a hushed, but stern whisper. Her arms were crossed as she stood stiffly in the doorway of their kitchen. 

"What was I supposed to do?" Thomas asked, to which Brenda rolled her eyes. "I couldn't leave him, Brenda," he said. 

"God knows what could've _happened_ to you, Thomas," she started to raise her voice slightly, and Thomas started to become worried as to whether or not it was projected enough for Newt to hear upstairs. "Those _thugs_ -" she spat.

"That guy was hardly a _thug_ , Brenda," the brother interrupted and judging by the change of expression on the girl's face, she knew which stranger he was talking about.

Brenda sighed before muttering, "Well his friends certainly were." 

Thomas couldn't think of what to say, so instead he watched as his sister dropped her head weakly and gazed at the floor in defeat. The never ending mute between the siblings was soon broken when Newt came back down the stairs - his shoes creating loud thumps and occasionally creaks as he reached the bottom. 

After coughing quite awkwardly, he turned towards Thomas. "Thank you," he said, "for um... helping, I guess," he struggled with his wordplay and the other boy found himself feeling surprised at the difference in speaking to what he had seen before - confidence and control. 

"S'okay," Thomas replied. He couldn't help, but release the pondering question that lay worryingly in his mind. "Are you sure you're... okay?" He realized he was struggling way more than Newt did, "Like do they bother you a lot?"

The Brit had an expression similar to what Brenda had during the hushed argument, but it was just as unreadable. It made Thomas even more frustrated and nervous, as it was Newt who was sending this stare straight into Thomas as if it was piercing his own eyes with his deep, amber ones. Although it felt like it was lasting for years, it only occurred for a couple seconds before the blonde answered.

"It usually doesn't get that heated," he now had control over what he was saying, and Thomas had to admit it suited him better.

"So what made it heated on this occasion?" He asked. He knew that he must have sounded nosy, but he was never one to care as long as he was given the wanted information.

Newt licked his lips and gave the tiniest smirk, which only made Thomas' heart thump even quicker much to his dismay. The blonde gave a single name.

"Ben," the boy said. 

Thomas scoffed before he even processed what he was doing. _Of course_ , he thought to himself. _You simply can't expect there not to be trouble when it comes to drugs - dealing at that._

"So they're the dealers you introduced to him," Thomas thought aloud without realizing until Newt raised his eyebrows slightly.

"You catch on quick," he muttered. 

From the corner of Thomas' eye, he could see Brenda's concentrated gaze on the two of them as they continued talking to one another. 

"Turns out Ben didn't exactly pay Jorge like he told me he did," Newt said as moved his eyes onto the banister of which he was leaning on. 

A possibility hit Thomas like a ton of flying bricks. "Is Jorge the..." the brunette couldn't think of any way to describe the man who seemed like the obvious leader within the gang, but luckily Newt got it (of course he did).

"Yeah," he answered before continuing. "Ben told him that _I_ was in fact paying," he grinned, but Thomas could tell it was one of those grins people make in order to hide their lurking anger. "Must have been off his head at the time but..." Newt didn't feel the need to finish that sentence; it also turned out he didn't have to, as Thomas finished it for him. 

"That's still shitty of him," he said-a certain sternness within his tone. Newt finally looked up at that point and gave the tiniest nod in agreement/amusement before using his eyes to wander lazily over Thomas' body. In that moment, the brunette felt as if his heart was about to burst from the constant, heavy thumping within his chest; he, of course, hid that feeling very well on the outside (as per usual when these kind of moments occured with Newt, as he had discovered over the past few days spent with the boy). 

"At least you cleaned up well," Brenda's voice sounded foreign due to Thomas becoming unaware of her presence. He agreed however; aside from the redness on Newt's nose and multiple areas around his cheeks and jaw where bruising was already threatening to appear. 

"I apologise again for the trouble I have caused," Newt directed the apology mainly towards Brenda, and Thomas as well as her, could tell. She shrugged and claimed it was 'nothing too major.' Thomas however, knew the other (more disagreeing) side to her opinion on the matter. 

Newt walked himself out after thanking the two of them once again. Thomas couldn't help, but notice the lingering gaze he had left him whilst doing that. He convinced himself it was just his imagination. 

The intimate touch he made against his arm on the way out, however (that lasted way longer than it should have), was not. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can't believe how bad I've been with updating recently... i'm so so sorry, but i hope this chapter kinda' makes up for it?


	7. chapter seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> starbucks is the place to be,  
> or maybe not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can follow / tweet me on twitter if you want - @lMMORTALNEWT

Thomas would've thought that after the horrendous mess of a fight that Newt had gotten into with Jorge and his gang, that he wouldn't have walked into college the next day with the goal of finding a new one. 

This time with Ben.

"Newt, stop!" Thomas heard the pleading cries from Sonya as she attempted to pry the blonde off of his current opponent. Ben was breathing heavily and his eyes burned with hatred as he sloppily ran a hand across his cheek - a place of which Newt had vigorously swung.

Thomas desperately pushed through the mass of people crowding excitedly around the fight until he reached the front.

"Fucking paid," Newt hissed under his breath, "Is that right?!" Thomas had never seen the boy this angered before - not even with Jorge or his gang the day before; nothing compared to the kind of madness he was witnessing in that moment. _Then again_ , Thomas thought. _He is encountering with the real guy to blame this time._  

_God dammit, Ben._

"I got my fucking _ass_ kicked because of you!" Newt continued seething towards Ben - who was being held back by Minho; Thomas wondered whether that was to protect Newt or to protect Ben himself.

"Newt, that's _enough_ ," Sonya's tone suddenly turned stern which grasped Thomas' full attention even more - as well as Newt by the looks of it. The boy's posture seemed to soften, but his eyes stayed exactly the same - piercing Ben with a powerful threat that would've made anyone else tremble. 

The other teen sighed gently and looked down in defeat before shrugging, "I dunno' what to tell you man," he admitted.

Newt scoffed, "How 'bout you explain to me why you told him I was  _fucking_ paying for you."

"You shouldn't be talking about it here, Newt," Sonya insisted with her hand still delicately placed on his shoulder; a location of which Thomas' eyes burned into without any realization. 

"Look, why are you so _pissed_ anyway?" Ben raised his voice and Minho winced at what-seemed-like, his death wish, "It's not like you don't have the money for it," he said without hesitation.

Thomas' heart started racing at Newt's expression - unchanged, but changed all the same, and he could only imagine what kind of vicious thoughts were going on through the blonde's mind at that moment as he continued staring at Ben. "I don't use my money for _cheapskate_ friends like you," Newt hissed.

The crowd of teens around them made a chorus of hushed "oooh's", but Thomas stayed silent. As his eyes quickly glanced away from Newt, they landed on Teresa - her focus fully on the Brit and a small, playful smirk on her face due to what he had just said.

Ben's breathing became even, but Thomas could tell by his deadly expression that he was still on fire with rage. After a few unbearable seconds of silence between the two, Ben muttered, "Whatever," and shoved past the crowd of people, out of sight; Thomas could tell that everyone was disappointed that the fight had ended so poorly. The brunette diverted his attention away from the spot of which Ben made his exit from, and instead looked at Newt.

What he saw was like a cold, frosty ice blast torturing his eyes. 

Teresa had both of her hands locked tight around the blonde's, whispering hushed conversation into his ear as her body leaned against his. He couldn't see what kind of look Newt had in his eyes, as they were gazing down at the floor instead. The remaining parts of his face that Thomas could just about see, were flat and emotionless - dreary almost. Behind them, Minho stood staring at the back of Newt's head, with what could only be described as tough concern. The longer Thomas examined the scene in front of him, the more he envied Teresa's position; he quickly mentally slapped himself as he realized the stupidity in what he was admitting.  _  
_

The teen forced his eyes away and felt some sort of relief in doing so, but at the same time he didn't. 

 

* * *

 

"Where the hell are teachers when you need 'em," Minho complained with his mouth stuffed full of a bite from his burrito.

Him, Thomas and the usual rest of the group, were sat around their usual spot by the park. The Asian was positioned lazily on top of the brick wall with Frypan as he wolfed down his lunch, whilst the rest spread out on the grass. Everyone was there - except Newt and Teresa.

When asked about the two's absence, Minho said that Teresa claimed she was helping him clean up the wounds on his face caused by Ben's multiple swings; it didn't come as much of a surprise to find out he was insanely strong due to his well-built posture (not that Thomas focused on said features). 

"Were there really _none_ during that whole fight?" Thomas asked, shaking himself out of his daydream.

"I spotted Miss Franklin at one point," Frypan commented after taking a gulp of his beer, "Practically sprinted after she saw the way Newt lunged at Ben," he laughed along with Winston, but Thomas couldn't find it within himself to join. 

Across from him, Minho's smirk softened once he saw the boy's anxiousness; the brunette's eyes kept glancing around him constantly as if he expected the Brit to show up any second, charming grin and all.

"He's fine, you know," his friend told him after a while of silent inspecting. 

He didn't have to say a specific name. He didn't even have to announce that he was directing that comment at Thomas - that's what bothered the boy to the point where he didn't know how or what to think anymore. Thomas looked down after an intense few seconds of shared, knowing expressions with Minho before taking another sip of his beer (not so hesitantly). He didn't feel the need to give any kind of response.

"Any ideas where Ben went?" A boy whom Thomas had learnt later on, had the name of "Zart" (he didn't even bother questioning the significance of it) asked from where he was slouched against the wall. The silence he received after concluded the obvious fact that no one knew. So instead, the boys simply relaxed there - under the warm glow of the afternoon sun. 

That was until Ben showed up himself. 

The boy stumbled over mumbling something about needing a drink, before practically snatching one out of Frypan's open bag. The harsh, red marks on his jaw and left eye were already starting to bruise and the blood under his nose seemed dry; he hadn't bothered to clean up it seems. His groggy movements and hazy eyes got Thomas seriously not hoping for the inevitable.

"Are you high?" Minho asked the question that was on everybody's minds; his tone so harsh, it would make anyone scared to death of answering to (conveniently of course, Ben was obviously high of some sort - therefore meaning he probably _didn't care_ ).

A burp of tremendous volume concluded that assumption.

After shaking his head in utter disbelief, Minho seemed to be the visual representation of how the rest of the group felt: of course _Ben_ would wander the streets searching for new drugs straight after getting into a fist fight about how he hadn't been able to pay the _last time._

A sudden question rung through Thomas' brain after that thought, but Ben managed to announce the problem before he or Minho could. "Oh don't _worry_ Minho," his voice drowned in lazy sarcasm, "I fucking paid the guy, all right?" 

"Yeah that's what you said last time," a recognizable, smooth British accent felt like a harsh punch in Thomas' (already vulnerable) heart; his eyes looked up faster than they had ever done before and inevitably landed on Newt. One small glance to the left of him was all that was needed to find Teresa, inhaling her cheap cigarette that gave off an equally cheap scent. 

"Hey, Newt," Ben muttered into his almost-empty can (the length of which he continued _not to care_ seemed to stretch for miles on end). Thomas was convinced that one of them would've lashed out at the other by now, but instead they both remained silent. Maybe the inside of Newt's head was a storm, but nobody could really tell due to his fascinating skills of facade. Thomas was scared of the possibility that maybe he was only one who desperately _wanted_ to see what it was like inside the boy's mind. 

He hadn't realized he was staring until the blonde met his gaze; it only lasted for half a second however, as Thomas blinked before looking a different direction (so quick it could almost be classed as a skill). He almost feared that if he allowed the shared eye contact to last any further than a split second, his heart was sure to beat uncontrollably within his chest. 

"I do hope you've at least _considered_ an apology on your behalf," Newt said after a few moments of nothing.  _  
_

This side was a completely different side to what Thomas had seen during both the fights he witnessed. The boy standing in front of him, was the boy he first saw upon walking into Sociology on his first day - and he couldn't tell whether or not that bothered him. 

Ben grunted/scoffed in response before finishing off his beer and crushing it easily with his hand. "I'll see ya'," the boy said, almost unheard as his slouched figure soon disappeared round a sharp corner.  

Minho scowled at Newt the same way a mother would do with a kid in trouble. "Don't tease," he said; the blonde smirked and claimed Ben "loves it". It baffled Thomas as to how he could go from a raging animal in the middle of the hallway to this. 

"You cleaned up well at least," Minho changed the topic quite subtly. 

"Thanks to my wonderful nurse over here," Newt gave a warm smile towards Teresa who had stumped out her worn cigarette before giving a grin back. Thomas' stomach churned.

"Hardly a _nurse_ ," she furrowed her eyebrows, but kept her lips turned upwards in a cheeky fashion, "Ben didn't do as much damage to Newt as Newt did to him it seems," as she said this, Thomas could've sworn her eyes glinted with... _contempt? Approval?_ He couldn't put his finger on it, but it certainly wasn't disappointment. It was the opposite of that, and the one word that stuck out to Thomas was _mischief._  

"Wouldn't call it an achievement," he word-vomited from his mind before he could even process his actions. Immediately after saying that, his chest started feeling unbearably tight; he refused to let this show however, and instead met Newt's playful stare.

"Wasn't calling it anything, _Tommy_ ," he replied. 

The brunette had never tried to cover as much emotion as he did in the moment that nickname came out of the Brit's mouth. He just couldn't _help it_. The way the simple abbreviation was spoken so smoothly and suggestively (Thomas wanted to believe anyway) just caused absolute chaos within his chest that couldn't be stopped.

"Why don't we get a drink?" Teresa suggested, breaking up the tension, "I'll text Harriet to come meet us at Starbucks," even though Thomas knew she as addressing to all of them, the loose arm linked around Newt's didn't escape his notice. Not that it bothered him to the _extreme_ , but... did she really have to  _cling_ onto him like that?

"Coffee after beer doesn't sound all that pleasant, but I'm down," Frypan then proceeded to jump off the wall along with Minho. It was only then that Thomas realized his lunch had consisted of nothing, but warm beer - he's definitely buying something to eat at Starbucks. He almost thanked Teresa for the suggestion of even going there. Almost.

 

* * *

 

 

Upon entering the coffee shop, Thomas saw Harriet and Sonya already seated in a booth. 

The seven new arrivals walked up to them before Harriet had spotted the group. "We didn't wanna have to ask them to set up a table for us again," she told them, "Figured it was too much trouble." Thomas glanced at Sonya and was met with an anxious expression on her face as she scanned her eyes over her blank-screened phone; she was waiting for a text from Ben no doubt.

"It's fine," Frypan replied, "Me and a couple of the guys'll just sit in the next one." He was then followed by Winston, Zart and Minho to the booth next door. That left Thomas, Newt and Teresa with Harriet and Sonya on theirs. Inconveniently, Thomas ended up sitting right across from the Brit - and the fact that Teresa remained next to him sent a horrible wave of déjà vu to yesterday's events. 

"I'll order," Teresa stood up with her notes app already opened, "What does everyone want?" 

As the group told her their requests, Thomas noticed Newt digging into his jacket pocket before forcing something into Teresa's unaware hand. As she scanned her eyes over the object, Thomas realized it was his debit card; the same one he had used in Mcdonalds to be exact. The girl wore a hesitant expression before saying, "We were all gonna' split the price New-"

"-S' fine," Newt interrupted without showing any signs of caring, "My treat."

Across from him in the next booth carrying the other guys, Thomas saw Minho's eyebrows furrow, but not in a confused fashion - more like soft, but noticeable frustration.

"You can use it for the other guys as well," Newt told her and anyone could tell that she was fighting with herself on whether or not to refuse. She nodded however before asking the others what they wanted, so it seemed like the idea of possibly refusing was out of the question. Thomas could tell that she didn't exactly _enjoy_ using Newt's card, as he carefully watched as she swiped it through the machine unwillingly. Then again, of course nobody really _enjoyed_ using other people's money (excluding gold diggers), but it seemed as if Newt was practically _giving it away -_ something that differed on a larger scale compared to a simple "treat" for friends.

"You need to stop worrying, Sonya," Harriet told the girl across the table. The blonde's hands still remained clutched around her phone as she anxiously longed for it to light up with a text that everyone thought extremely unlikely. Especially from the person itching in her mind. 

"Aren't any of _you?"_ Sonya whipped her head up with furrowed eyebrows and stern eyes. Thomas could tell her anxiety was quickly being transformed into anger.  

"Not really," Harriet shrugged and it was obvious she wasn't lying either. Thomas expected Newt to be the one to answer first, but instead it was the truthful best friend. 

Newt spoke up soon enough however, his eyes scanning up and down his phone screen as he swiped, "He was high off his bloody head a couple minutes ago," he scoffed gently, but it owned a powerful amount of mockery all the same. 

"Wait-you... talked to him?" Sonya blinked, "When?"

"He came over when we were eating," Thomas entered the conversation and leaned forwards with his elbows on the table, "Newt wasn't there at first," he informed her as Sonya's curious eyes inspected him at every word. 

"Could tell he was stoned from miles away," an obvious smirk was audible in Newt's tone and that caused Thomas to steal a glance at the teen across from him. The Brit did a sudden double-take once he noticed the boy's stare and his thumb stopped gliding up and down his touch-screen to focus fully on Thomas, his smirk slowly disappearing from his face; it was almost as if he was challenging him to a staring contest that wasn't even implied, yet the brunette couldn't seem to look away. He took a daring moment to set his gaze lower and onto Newt's lips that opened slightly due to the fact that it now had an audience. "Fuck" seemed to be the appropriate word to have ringing through Thomas' mind in that moment.

"Newt!" Teresa called out from her position near the counter. Thomas returned his sight back onto the boy's eyes out of slight shock from the sudden disruption. "Can you help carry some of the drinks?" She asked.

"Sure," he made sure his voice was a little louder in order for the girl to hear, but that didn't cause either of them to look away, nor lower the tension. Finally, Newt flicked his eyes professionally over the parts of Thomas that were visible before winking in super speed and exiting the booth. 

Next to him, Harriet's lips quirked into a playful grin, "Not in _public_ ," she muttered into her hand.

Thomas' eyes widened in awful realization and Sonya - who was too busy at the time concentrating on the unlikely - glanced up at her friend, "Huh?" She asked with an expression of pure confusion as she now swapped between looking expectantly at both Harriet and Thomas, both whom chose to refuse/ignore the stares. "What do you mean _"not in public"_?" Sonya pushed.

Thomas could feel his face getting embarrassingly hot at the fact that Harriet had witnessed the shared, but silent interaction between Newt and him and he dreaded to think of all the possible taunt he would receive from her later on. 

Before Sonya had the chance to question any further, Newt and Teresa arrived with some of their drinks. 

" _Tommy_ ," a smooth accent fell surprisingly close to Thomas' ear as an iced latte was placed delicately in front of him. He muttered a thanks before taking a long-needed gulp of the perfected beverage as if he expected it to calm down the racing within his chest. Sadly, Newt had somehow managed to cause the quickened beating of his heart in the last couple of days more than all of his P.E lesson combined.

"You know, it's funny..." the Brit announced with a soft grin as he fiddled with the lid of his cup, "sometimes I wonder if Starbucks is just like any other coffee brand-" his naturally well-spoken voice drew everyone on the table in, no matter how pointless the topic may have seemed, "-won't be finding out anytime soon," by the end of his sentence, he was already a millisecond from taking a sip of his lat- _no._

No matter how much Thomas _wanted_ to believe, he was not anywhere near convinced that that was Newt's foot grazing ever-so suggestively up Thomas' leg. _No way._

As his inner self proceeded to scream with uncontrolled panic, his outer self almost passed-out from trying not to show his current mess of emotions. One quick look up at Newt concluded the fact that it _was_ indeed his foot - why else would his eyes seem to burn with...Thomas wanted to say _desire_ , but his imagination at this point had no limitations and he couldn't find it within himself to trust it. 

For a second, he thought of the possibility that Newt might have mistakened Thomas' foot for someone else's (later on, he realized that it was a pathetic and non-realistic excuse so he accepted the fact that the boy was playing _footsie_ with him under the table). 

It was a one-man game until Thomas took it upon himself to _give_ as well as receive. All the while repeating several self-targeted curses in his mind until it - most likely - set on fire with utter regret at himself. At one point, during Harriet's rant about "outrageous" college policies, they intertwined and Thomas almost gasped at how surprisingly _natural_ it felt. The brunette cleared his throat in an attempt to seem more casual, but all that did was draw Newt's full awareness onto him - his deep, chestnut eyes awaiting for a response that was inevitably coming (whether or not is was to the dismay of Thomas). And my God, it was. Their feet remained hooked around the other's as did the stares. Newt took another sip of his drink, but scanned over Thomas whilst doing so; he had somehow managed to _sexualize_ a Goddamn cup. 

"-It's just stupid if you ask me," Harriet finished her rant that was surely only listened by Sonya and Teresa, unless Newt had super multi-tasking abilities that is.

But let's be honest. He probably does.

The sudden silence that was so used to them as being muffled in the background caused Newt to break the eye contact as well as the feet, and all Thomas felt was emptiness from both parts. He wanted so desperately to deny the feeling of which he gained from the boy's touch, even if was limited to the material of their shoes. But he simply _couldn't._ It would be as if he were cheating on himself and his gut instinct. 

Sonya asked where Brenda was and Thomas answered - with only a slight hint of shakiness in his voice - that she was ill (in actual fact, he had over-heard his sister informing his mum that it was a bad case of period pains, but he would never announce such personal issues). 

Newt's eyes were like a magnet that begged to be drawn to and Thomas couldn't seem to stop himself from doing so. The regret burned within him as soon as he met the boy's gaze and his heart and mind paid the ultimate price.

Man, he was so fucked.

 

* * *

 

 

"You think I'm stupid?" 

Thomas turned around and was met with the raised eyebrows of Harriet, her arms crossed and hip cocked out. The pair were both outside the coffee shop and Newt and rest of the group had already departed their separate ways. Thomas' inability to reply seemed just about enough for her to continue, "I know what was going on in there-" _here we go,_ "-with you and Newt."

Thomas sighed as Harriet looked at him expectantly, but he couldn't think of anything to say except, "Just... drop it," he shook his head, "It was nothing, honest."

Harriet scoffed, "I know it seemed like I was just joking around in there, but I'm serious now," Thomas wasn't sure if he wanted to hear whatever it was she had to say. The girl seemed to be in thought for a moment before finally meeting his gaze with a stern one herself, "I'm not gonna' tell you what and what not do," she started and Thomas started to get nervous (at this point, he would prefer endless days of teasing over this), "but Teresa's _into_ him, Thomas."

His heart stopped. That is _not_ what he was expecting. 

"And I'm pretty sure he's into her too," she shrugged, "so I just..." all Thomas could do was stand there as she thought of the right words, "... wouldn't get involved."

He did his hardest not to walk away right there and then and stuttered his speech a bit due to utter bafflement, _"Get involved?"_ He asked with eyes squinted in confusion (and secret anger).

"To prevent anything that shouldn't happen from happening, Thomas," she sighed, "Its probably the right thing to do."

Thomas was more than done with the conversation. And Harriet. 

He shrugged, "Whatever," and walked away like he intended to at the very start. He had already missed half of his Economics class so he didn't seem to find any motivation to even attend, so instead he focused on getting away from Harriet at least, no matter how rude that sounded. 

"You know I'm right, Thomas!" The girl exclaimed - her words drilling through Thomas' mind and causing him to speed up the pace of which he was travelling.

_You know I'm right._

Thomas found himself unwillingly hoping for the possibility of her being _wrong._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> new chapter ayy, I hope you liked it and a comment would be really appreciated!  
> i also hope you're still sticking with me and my terrible updates... 
> 
> P.S  
> i ̶v̶e̶r̶y̶ ̶m̶u̶c̶h̶ ̶e̶n̶j̶o̶y̶e̶d̶ ̶w̶r̶i̶t̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶f̶o̶o̶t̶s̶i̶e̶ ̶s̶c̶e̶n̶e̶


	8. chapter eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> newt doesn't want to be friends.

Everything was pissing Thomas off.

The litter scattered around the street was pissing him off. The woman with the screaming baby at the bus stop was pissing him off. Even the occasional sound of cars driving past pissed him off. But most importantly, the cause for all of this unnecessary anger was - of course - Harriet.

How dare she talk about everyone as if she's known them for years, his mind seethed. The teen scuffed the bottom of his shoe as he kicked at the concrete beneath him.

_"And I'm pretty sure he's into her too."_

No matter how hard he tried, Thomas couldn't get that particular saying out of his head; it planted itself there like a seed, growing into some sort of venomous plant each time he repeated it over and over again. He's into her too. He's into her too.

Thomas sighed and ran a hand through his hair as he slowed down to a stop. Once he looked around, he realized the street he was in was completely silent. Empty. It didn't help the inevitable fact that he had no idea where he was, nor how to get back home. His car was parked at college - another location he couldn't work out how to get to.

Pulling out his phone, Thomas contemplated on who to call. Brenda was most likely still in a position of utter pain and therefore, unavailable. As he scrolled down, a lot of new names popped up from when he had collected the numbers of Minho and the rest of the group. _Minho... Minho?_ His finger hovered over the call button, but Thomas (being the ridiculous over-thinker that he was) thought about a couple of the others instead; _Minho might be hanging out with Newt after all..._

He decided against both Harriet and Teresa for obvious reasons he didn't really want to admit. So in the end, he chose Gally. He figured he was friendly enough with the guy, considering the boy did _flirt_ with him (terribly) as a bet the other day.

After a few rings, he picked up, "Thomas?"

"I don't suppose you could pick me up?" He put it in the most simplest of terms.

There was a pause as if some small talk was occurring in the background before Gally replied, "Sure, where are you?"

And then Thomas really didn't know what to say, but instead describe his surroundings like the idiot he was, "I don't even know man, there's a-"

"-You're lost?" A hint of a smirk came through the other boy's voice and Thomas didn't need to see him to know that.

"I dunno'!" He exclaimed, "I just... kept walking and then somehow ended up... here-I dunno'!" He repeated, sounding pathetically desperate in not trying to make a further fool of himself. One of the many things he had tried, but horribly failed in his life.

More background voices were audible and they were too deep to be girls. "Okay, okay," Gally sounded like an amused mother of some sort, "Just describe your surroundings; it can't be that far."

Thomas took another search around him, looking for any specific brand names or something that stuck out somehow. He noticed a place called-"There's a place called Spinnin' Records?" He cringed just saying it, "Music sto-"

"-Oh yeah, hey! I know that place!" Gally told him quite excitedly, "I'll be there in a sec."

Thomas highly doubted he would there in the span of one second, but was thankful all the same.

 

* * *

 

 

When befriending Gally and his particular group of friends, you must be prepared for the unexpected.

So for instance, if you're expecting none other than Gally to pull up in his car with a teasing grin at the fact you managed to get lost, you'll probably end up with the least wanted of your possible options. Thomas stopped dead in his tracks once he saw the familiar, yet unexpected person seated in the car.

Newt rolled down the window. "I insisted," the boy told him.

Thomas had never felt so limited to his words than in that moment where he stood there, dumbfounded. The only thing that caused slight hesitance from making his way towards the vehicle, were Harriet's unforgotten words that had somehow managed to stay contained within Thomas' mind.

_I wouldn't get involved._

He didn't realize he had been standing there for embarrassingly long until Newt cleared his throat, "You gonna' get in?" He asked. Thomas refused to admit the satisfaction he gained from listening to the boy's strong accent, so instead he nodded with a stuttered, "Uh... yeah, sorry," and traveled around the front of the car towards the passenger seat.

"Gally was in the middle of an intense _Mario Kart_ race with Fry," Newt told him with an amused grin as he began the journey. From a closer perspective, a smudge of pale blues and purples were visible on the blonde's jawline from his previous hustle with Ben (not that Thomas was noticing such things with ease), "He put it on a pause the moment you called of course-" _Is it too over-sensitive to feel guilty?_ He thought. "-but as I said," Newt turned towards him, "I insisted."

It was in that moment in which the teen had forgotten his main priority - due to the distraction of the brunette's eyes - and the vehicle viciously swerved, causing Thomas' common sense to cling helplessly onto the arm rest as Newt cursed whilst trying to regain steadiness of the wheel.

If Thomas were to put the boy's driving into a single word, that word would be... horrendous.

Even after collecting himself after his small fault (that was forgivable), he still managed to "accidentally" pass by at least three stop signs and Thomas was almost certain that the teen actually sped up upon noticing a speed bump approaching... which was horrendous in itself (those faults inevitably unforgivable, the passenger decided).

After another sharp turn, Newt asked Thomas' address - something the boy had completely abandoned the thought of as soon as the Brit's driving suggested a death wish for the both of them. Instead of giving the intended answer, Thomas replied with, "You have a licence, right?" His body leaning with great force against the side of the car as Newt made another deathly turn.

The driver scoffed, "That, I assure you," he said, "I just don't use it to my advantage that often..."

A vague, but clear memory overtook Thomas' mind to the small time in which Newt spent at his house getting patched up after his run-in with Jorge and his gang.

_He was almost fully out the door before Thomas touched his upper arm, "You sure you're okay getting home?" He honestly felt like a concerned mother, but that was all clouded by the heated sensation in which the small amount of contact had made him feel._

_Newt smiled and gestured his head to the sleek, black car that was parked a few feet away; inside, was a middle-aged man reading a paper. Any thought of it possibly being the father was excluded upon noticing the black hat and buttoned suit - a chauffeur. Of course he had a chauffeur (who the fuck doesn't have a chauffeur these days?) "I'm good," Newt confirmed to the inspecting brunette, "You've done enough as it is."_

_Thomas didn't leave his position in the middle of the doorway until the vehicle was completely out of sight._

"Hm," Thomas replied after running through the brief flashback. He felt the Brit glancing back and forth between him and the road - something inexperienced drivers would do, of course.

Thomas ended up requesting for himself to be dropped off at the college (suddenly remembering he actually had his own vehicle in need of picking up and figuring it was way easier than having to take the bus the next morning, or something).

It was silent for a moment until Newt said, "I would've thought that you and Brenda lived on campus."

"We were thinking about it," he admitted, "but by the time school started, the idea never... became, I guess," his words sounded ridiculously unorganized in Thomas' mind, but Newt didn't seem to push on the topic anymore after that. Thomas stupidly decided to add on, "And besides, I don't think mom would've taken it well if we did," he grinned.

Newt's lips upturned. "As long as the dorm was first-class, I don't think my parents would've minded," something in his voice sounded strained which caused the other boy to look at him. "Needless to say they _didn't_ manage to find a first-class dorm, but they're still paying for the one I have now - dunno' why considering I'm hardly planning to use it." All the sarcasm was lost, but his lips still had a small smile playing on them.

"Tragic," Thomas couldn't contain the amount of mocking that one word managed to obtain; he regretted it as soon as it came out of his mouth.

For the first time since being in Gally's car (Thomas assumed due to the sloppiness of it all), the pause stretched on, as well as the lingering stare he now had on the driver - out of hope that the comment had not affected him badly. The other teen's focus was disguised to look keen on the road, but there were brief moments of hesitation where his head would turn as if to look at him, but quickly turn back; his eyes wandering to the very corner of his view, but still not reaching Thomas' own. It was interesting to observe from the passenger's perspective. To watch the Brit's lips part in attempt to conjure up any group of words that would somehow fulfill whatever it is he needed to say.

Red light.

"I don't live off of my parent's money," Newt pronounced.

Thomas blinked and furrowed his eyebrows at the sudden confession and he immediately insisted, "I wasn't saying that."

"No, but I could tell you were thinking it," he said. _Oh god._ It dawned on Thomas that he was indeed, right. "I mean, everyone thinks it. Even Minho and Gally and Fry and Winston - they all think that I live off of my parent's money," he paused and clenched his jaw. "But I don't."

Thomas gazed in curiosity at the other boy's distracted eyes, focused in front of him in concentration, as well as deep thought.

"I believe you," he said. He meant it too.

Newt didn't offer anything back, but his expression softened and the tight clutch he didn't even realize he had on the wheel, became gentle.

Nothing was said after that.

 

* * *

 

 

Once the pair had reached the college, Thomas hurriedly gave his thanks and exited the car to find his own (not that much of a difficult task considering most of the parking lot was vacant). The footsteps of Newt were heard soon after, following behind him; either that, or an ax murderer. Thomas was certainly not hoping for the latter, that's for damn sure.

As soon as he unlocked his car and grasped the door handle, another hand landed on his own - making the boy jump slightly. Heat stimulated in its place and normal heart rates were long forgotten for Thomas. "I always suspected you were an ax murderer," he attempted to make lightness of the situation in order to cover up his nerves. Newt was awfully close to the point where his breath was felt upon the back of Thomas' ear.

Newt gave a soft laugh in return and shook his head. "No, not quite."

Silence followed after that due to the fact that Thomas had no idea what to say in reply, so instead he made the ridiculous decision of turning his head. It went slow; hesitant moves were made as their faces drew closer and closer together and breaths became deeper and deeper. Both of their pairs of eyes lingering lower than necessary and Thomas' hand clasped tighter onto the handle to refrain it from shaking, the Brit's own still placed gently above it. He glanced up from his gaze on Newt's lips to meet with something else. Much to the brunette's surprise, Newt's eyes were too busy focusing on Thomas' lips, which were slightly parted due to the sudden attention.

As soon as their eyes eventually did meet, Thomas hopelessly found himself wishing they didn't. He also found himself wondering how the hell he was still alive at this point.

"I hope you know," Newt's voice sent shivers through the other boy's body, "that this is my way of saying _I don't wanna' be friends_."

In the spur of it all, Thomas took it as an insult at first: _Well what the hell is that supposed to mean?_ He thought. However, upon noticing the blonde's mouth ghosting a mere few inches from his, he understood what that reference suggested. Jesus, what is happening, his mind wasn't used to this much fucking if he was being honest. The word 'boundaries' didn't seem to be included in Newt's vocabulary.

"Text me," the Brit took away the warmth of which his hand gave and broke whatever kind of trance they had managed to create.

Thomas was about to bring up the fact that he didn't actually possess the boy's number, until he noticed a strip of ripped paper on the back of his hand. Before it could be blown away, he took it and unfolded it to reveal a uneven line of digits as if they had been scribbled on in a rush. A few metres away, Newt walked backwards and awaited with a smirk for Thomas to look up (which he did) before spinning on his heel and striding with a certain smugness towards Gally's car, allowing the other boy to simply inspect his back whilst doing so.

Watching the vehicle being driven slightly unsteadily out of the parking lot, Thomas wondered if Harriet was right after all.

 

* * *

 

 

It was 9pm when Thomas lay endlessly in bed with his phone in one hand and the strip of paper holding the digits in the other. _Would I look desperate?_ The boy thought stupidly to himself. _But then again, he did say "text me". He's obviously expecting it._

 Thomas groaned and kicked at the mattress with his heels out of frustration. Frustration that Newt had caused.

Minutes after minutes of typing and deleting...

**\- hey, its thomas**

_Delete._

**\- sup! btw its thomas**

_God no, delete._

**\- its thomas, u gave me ur number:)**

_Delete, delete, delete._

Everything he attempted either sounded cringe, or needy, or... just no.

The boy rolled his eyes at the amount of unnecessary over thinking he was performing and typed in **'thomas'**. He forced himself to send the message before his mind could persuade him otherwise and sank his head into the pillow, waiting.

The response was immediate and Thomas was almost not convinced that he heard the familiar ping of his phone a mere few seconds after. As he scanned the reply, the teen couldn't help breaking out into a grin.

**n: name's newt actually**

**t: ah, apologies**

**n: it's fine, it happens all the time**

The conversation seemed far too friendly and casual considering what occurred between the two of them not long ago. But, maybe that's just how Newt likes to work. Thomas sighed and refused to allow himself to think any further about Newt's ways of acting with people, scared of the possibility that he could ruin whatever they had due to his stupid over thinking. What that may be, he didn't feel like working out.

A few minutes of nothing occurred from both ends of the chat until Newt happened.

**n: there's a party**

**t: could u possibly elaborate?**

**n: a party you should go to**

Thomas realized the easiness texting Newt was compared to the real life situation he had barely recovered from. He didn't have to think about what he typed now that he was actually in a conversation with the other boy. The only thing that could jeopardize the flow was if Newt somehow managed to affect Thomas as he had done earlier through pixels, which he highly doubted would be able to happen. He can't be that good.

**t: i see**

**n: a party i would like to see you at**

**t: hm**

**n: a party where we should hook up at**

Thomas threw his phone up in the air.

_No._

It landed with a thump onto the carpeted floor.

_Chill._

He sat there, not really thinking. How could he think? Newt had just suggested they hook up. At a _party._ Harriet would be screaming a bunch of 'don't you dare's' if she were there at that moment and probably a few 'I told you so's' as a sider. Taking a deep breath, Thomas weighed out the possibilities. _He's probably joking_ , one of them was. Having a laugh. After all, he did seem like the type of person to joke about sex with a newly developed acquaint- _ping!_

Thomas blinked and snapped out of the shock he was paralyzed by. He almost didn't want to know what Newt had to say next after that reckless message, but of course he had to know.

**n: judging by your silence, i must've taken you a bit off guard**

_A bit?!_

**t: just a bit**

**n: i tend to do that quite a lot**

_Of course you do._

**t: so you must ask quite a lot of people if they wanna hook up at parties then**

**n: not always at parties  
** **n: but that's not the point**

Thomas was becoming done with this chat; it had turned into something he definitely did not want - a discussion about Newt's productive sex life. He lay there, not wanting to reply.

 **n: anyway  
** **n: you should come**

 **t: so i can be one of ur many party-related hook ups  
** **t: i would be honored**

It had gone downhill, much to both Thomas and Newt's dismay.

**n: i was kidding**

**t: because that was obvious**

**n: don't be pissed**

**t: why on earth would u think i'm pissed?**

**n: tommy**

**t: i mean u've done nothing besides suggest we hook up as a joke**

**n: i never said our hook up would be a joke, i never even suggested it seriously**

**t: don't say things and expect me to assume its a joke newt**

The conversation had managed to be jeopardized, but it wasn't because of what Thomas had expected. Instead it was something way worse.

**n: fgs i'm sorry, ok?**

**t: whatever**

**n: tommy, i'm sorry**

**t: tell me about the party**

A minute passed and Thomas started to get worried that he possibly drove the other boy away, but a response soon came. The subject changed, but not the way he wanted it to.

**n: it's at mine, my parents are leaving on business for a couple weeks**

**t: and they trust u with the house?**

**n: we have a few maids, but i'm gonna tell them to have a couple days off so the house will be completely free**

Thomas fought the temptation to roll his eyes.

**t: ok**

**n: so you're coming?**

**t: i guess, if brenda wants to**

**n: ok**  
**n: because it would be cool if you showed up**  
**n: it'll be fun  
** **n: saturday, any time after 9**

That was the last text Thomas received before they stopped coming in completely and he didn't exactly feel the need nor motivation to reply with even a simple 'ok'. He fought the temptation to, anyway.

He should be happy. He was invited to his first ever party as an official college student - something he only vaguely daydreamed throughout high school. Sure, the parties back then were good, but this was way different. Less innocent.

 

* * *

 

 

All that was visible of Thomas' dear sister was the top of her ruffled up head, cushioned between layers of thick blankets and pillows. For a moment, he thought she must have been asleep, but the sudden groaning and uncomfortable maneuver of her body proved otherwise.

"Sup."

Her groans turned into whines and a pale, frowning face popped out from underneath the pile of blankets. "What?" Her voice drowned in annoyance mixed with pain and exhaustion. I must thank God later for not making me a girl, Thomas noted.

"There's a party on Saturday. You wanna' come?" He asked her with a small smile in attempt to brighten the utter dullness within the room - his sister being the cause of most of it.

Brenda exhaled and rubbed one of her closed eyes weakly. "Depends if I'll be alive by then," she croaked.

"Great!" Thomas chirped and began to leave.

The girl whined, "Thomasss," before he could get very far - however. "Brendaaa," he mocked back whilst perching himself on the edge of her bed. An audible, but mumbled "shut up" was heard from her head, buried into the cushion and Thomas grinned.

"Harriet's been texting me, ya' know," her voice still ached and sounded as if it had been barely used, but there was still a hint of noticeable mischief that Thomas could easily detect. "About certain things," she added.

"That is a normal thing for friends to do," Thomas bobbed his head even though he knew exactly what she was talking about; he knew the moment she mentioned the name 'Harriet'. His heart started to pick up pace.

"Look, I dunno' what kind of... thing you have for Newt, but-" Thomas sighed at the comment and Brenda paused. She gave one of those looks. The kind of look where you know that person is going to say something you won't necessarily like. "But it's gotta stop," she shrugged.

Why did Thomas feel like everyone he knew was attacking him?

"There is nothing _to_ stop," by the time he finished the sentence he was already off the bed and headed straight for the door. Thankfully, his sister didn't say anything on his way out; he didn't think he could handle it if she did.

Slamming his bedroom door behind him, he never noticed his breathing got heavier and faster until his body slid downwards and hit the floor. His head propped against the barrier behind him as he attempted slowing down the sharp intakes of breath through his nose, forcing himself to ignore the shakiness of his hands and the uncomfortable tightness within his chest. "Jesus Christ," Thomas scoffed to himself between long exhales, but found it beyond difficult to even _attempt_ at laughing in his current state.

 _This isn't happening,_ his mind seethed. _This is happening to me just because of some little **mind-fuck.**_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not sure if I like the way this chapter ended, hm...  
> anywayy, school's started again so that means even less time for writing:( I will try, however, to write and give as much thought to this story as possible. Thank you for sticking with this fic, I appreciate it a lot and I apologize at how slow it's going at the moment haha...  
> ignore any grammar mistakes and so on, I haven't exactly proof - read it as I really wanted to update for you guys:) if you wanna tweet me with your thoughts on this fic, please do - @lMMORTALNEWT
> 
> and yes, that bit with newt coming onto thomas was inspired by the newly released clip from the scorch trials (ayyy). If you haven't seen it, here's the link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Q8h7J-zqy0
> 
> i love reading comments so don't feel hesitant to do so, they really keep me motivated in writing :-)


	9. chapter nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a little party never killed nobody

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is such a long chapter ewijfiwksa  
> *LOTS AND LOTS OF SWEARING, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED*

  _...Unifying the study of these diverse subjects of study is sociology’s purpose of understanding how human action and consciousness both shape and are shaped by surrounding cultural and social structures..._

The bright projection illuminated the room as an education film played on the screen. Alby had walked in that lesson claiming nobody realized the "absolute necessity" of sociology so therefore, the video. Pretty much everyone in the class, however, knew that he used that as an excuse to not being bothered to teach. But, who could blame him really? Thomas believed that that would be something _he_ would probably do if he was a teacher who didn't feel particularly motivated to teach. Heck, he isn't exactly motivated to learn as it is. 

He must have looked glum, as he felt Teresa nudge his arm and mouth, "You okay?" Once catching his eye. Thomas gave a weak, slightly forced smile in return - truthfully, he felt a tremendous wave of pure _guilt_ every time he did so much as look at the girl. The amount of care she seemed to have for him didn't help either. The boy shut his eyes for a few seconds to avoid himself from getting in too deep. 

Thomas' phone went off in his pocket from where it was set on vibrate and carefully scanned it under his desk (not that Alby would notice, nor care if he noticed the possession of it during class). 

**n: ?**

_The hell is he asking exactly?_ Thomas wondered. A simple question mark could mean a lot of things; fortunately for him, he wouldn't allow himself to delve too much into that topic, as he shoved it back in pocket instead. He didn't want to give Newt the satisfaction of replying and he _knew_ he was in the boy's viewing point from the back of the classroom so that he could observe Thomas' actions clearly. 

_Bzzz_

Almost immediately after returning it to his jean pocket, the phone vibrated again and Thomas had no doubt it was from the same person a mere couple metres away. He fought the temptation to check, but then it went off again. A few seconds passed and the boy sighed softly as he lazily reached for the device. He could practically feel the knowing smirk burning into the back of his head and he felt slightly defeated.

 **n: aw don't be like that  
** **n: bloody hell, you can hold a serious grudge can't you?**

"Fuck off," he muttered under his breath (but in reality he wanted to scream it across the classroom and watch the utter awe unfold on the blonde's face). That would be one hell of an amusing sight.

Next to him, Teresa noticed her friend's agitation from whoever was causing it through his phone's screen. She watched as Thomas went back and forth between messages before irritably pocketing it for the second time. Although his eyes returned onto the film, she knew his mind was somewhere else.

 

* * *

 

The pair were on their way towards Thomas' locker when Teresa asked, "Who was texting you back there?" Her voice genuinely intrigued.

The boy felt as if someone had punched him in the chest after receiving the unexpected question. He didn't even realize she was watching him. 

"Oh, just Brenda," the lie easily slipped out much to the regret of Thomas. "Telling me about her stupid psychology teacher again," he gave a small laugh, but Teresa didn't seem convinced. They stopped walking once reaching Thomas' locker and her face was unreadable - something that absolutely terrified him.

"Weird," her eyebrows furrowed, but something felt off about her confusion. "Last I heard, she was still feeling sick according to you."

_Fuck._

"Can't imagine why she would be mentioning her psychology teacher if she wasn't even in _class_ today," there was suspicion in her tone, but bitterness all the same. Why wouldn't there be? She just got plain lied to right to her face. All Thomas could do was stand there, drowning in his own guilt. "C'mon, Tom. When was the last time you lied to me?" Teresa looked hurt.

 _Not too long ago actually,_ Thomas' mind thought back to when he had covered up the fact that he ran into Newt in the toilets and didn't forward his simple message onto Teresa. _Just when he thought his life couldn't get any more messed up at that point._

Thomas continued standing there, heart beating rapidly as he couldn't process anything at all to say. He swallowed the lump in his throat nervously - whilst also trying not to choke on his long forgotten gum - once catching Teresa's expectant eyes. His brain was too muddled with a bunch of self-targeted curses to even sort itself out and he could feel the heaviness of remorse weighing him down like dumb bells. _Why is this even happening._

"Hey!" 

Newt and Minho appeared and the sudden interruption caused Thomas to release a long breath he didn't even realize he was holding in. Although Teresa kept her stare locked onto the other brunette, it vanished as soon as Newt snaked an arm around her waist and the intensity was replaced with a warm smile instead. The action (although it had saved him) caused Thomas to bite harder into his gum and he could feel his jaw clench harshly as Minho discussed plans for Saturday.

"You guys are bringing booze, right?" He aimed the question mainly at Teresa, as Thomas was busy sorting out books from his locker (anything to distract himself from you-know-who observing the teen from a short distance away). 

"Course," the girl fiddled with her hair and grinned. Although Thomas couldn't see the expression on her face, he rolled his eyes slightly at the kind of affect Newt had on her just from his presence. _She has no idea._ Across from him, the blonde's smirk grew wider at the sight.

During Minho's run-through of who to bring and music playlists and so on (topics Thomas really did not give a shit about), he slammed his locker and mumbled, "I'll see ya'," not giving the chance for any of them to reply as he was already so far down the hallway, they would have to shout for him to even hear.

"What's up with him?" Minho nodded his head in the location Thomas was a few seconds ago and Teresa replied with a weak shrug. 

Newt watched the boy until the very moment the boy noticed his phone go off.

**n: you look sexy chewing gum**

 

* * *

 

 

Only just getting by his morning classes, Thomas felt no need to attend his afternoon ones. So instead he trudged to the place the group usually hung out and perched himself onto the high wall, chewing a new piece of gum. Leaving himself to his own messed up thoughts probably wasn't the best idea, but neither was sitting through a class he only decided to take because of his mother and sister.

The think scent of tobacco filled Thomas' lungs.

"Can I have one?" Newt asked, walking along the wall until he reached the brunette and sat himself down. The Brit took another exhale before smothering the end of it into the bricks. "After all this time, my parents _still_ don't know I smoke," he said, amusement mixed with disbelief. 

As Thomas wedged one out of the packet, he implied, "Thought they were away on busine-"

"-They leave on Friday."

He didn't say anything back, but as he moved to hand Newt a piece of gum, he found the Brit with his mouth open and a playful glint in his eye. The brunette rolled his eyes and dropped the gum into the other boy's mouth. "Thanks," Newt's gaze lingered even after Thomas turned away and he noticed him shaking his head. "What?" He asked him with his lips still upturned cheekily.  

"Unbelievable," Thomas muttered.

Newt obviously chose to ignore the comment. "Y'know, most people actually _reply_ to their text messages." He spoke again after receiving nothing, but silence from Thomas. "But then again," he glanced fully over the other boy slowly, "you're not like _most people_ , are you?" He questioned; something about it however, suggested he didn't expect (nor wanted) it to be answered.

Thomas turned his head to look at him, but not in the way Newt would have preferred. It didn't offer any kind of flirtatious dares or anything like that. Instead it was Thomas trying to work the other boy out. What it is he actually _wanted_ from him. 

After a few seconds of inspecting Newt's soft, but strong grin (not showing any signs of fading any time soon) Thomas broke the silence with, "Teresa's into you, y'know," and the blonde's grin faltered ever so slightly, it almost went unnoticed. He shifted his body away and continued staring off into space at the vacant park not that far away, but Thomas' frown grew deeper at Newt's non-existent reply. "Wha-and that doesn't mean anything to you?" His voice raised.

"It's not _serious_ ," he sounded agitated.  
"Not to _you_."

Newt's lips were now pursed and in a straight line as his jaw clenched and un-clenched from chewing. Thomas couldn't help but sneak a glance at his firm jaw every so often, but immediately felt regretful every time he did.

"Why does it bother you anyway?" The Brit spoke calmly as he turned to face him.

For a split second, he thought he was trapped by this question; that he wouldn't be able to give an answer without the word 'jealousy' tied in somewhere. But then Thomas felt selfish at the real reason he was bothered so much. And it wasn't jealousy.

"Teresa's my friend," he knew it wasn't the reply Newt was looking for, but Thomas didn't care, "I'd appreciate it if you didn't fuck with her, as well as _fucking_ with me." With that, he grabbed his bag, spat out his gum and pushed himself off of the wall. He couldn't handle being in Newt's presence any longer, for the sake of his (already) damaged well-being. 

"When was I _fucking_ with anyone?!" 

Newt managed to stride over to Thomas before he had managed to get too far and pulled at his arm in order to force him around. He must have spit out his gum as well, as no trace of it was obvious. 

"Oh, please," Thomas mumbled, trying to avoid lasting eye contact as much as possible. "You know what? Whatever," he shrugged spitefully and carried on walking. _Why should he use any more of his effort on him anyway?_

Newt stood hesitantly as he saw the boy begin to walk away, his mind focused on not letting his slight inner fear show. "Don't act as if you had no part in this, Tommy," he called. The comment seemed to have worked.

Thomas froze abruptly before spinning on his heel and marching back to him, their bodies becoming closer than intended. "You're seriously trying to put the blame on _me?"_   He practically seethed. "Who do you think you are exactly?" He carried on ranting and Newt let him. "I already have Harriet and my _freaking_ sister on my case because of you and your inability to make up your _fucking_ mind!" The boy laughed during the few last words of the sentence at how utterly outrageous the whole thing was.

"What, and you can?" Newt dared.  
"I am now."

Thomas paused and took a moment to breathe before making eye contact again. 

"Newt, Teresa's my best friend," he shook his head gently. The atmosphere was calmer to that of a few moments ago. "I'm always gonna' choose her over you." It hurt more than he ever thought it would to say it out loud, but Thomas knew it was the right thing to do. It had to be.

After one final glance at the expressionless face of which Newt owned, he walked away. And this time he knew he wouldn't be stopped.

Newt cursed harshly to himself and dug into his pocket for another cigarette, but paused to continue studying the boy walking away from him. "Shit," he murmured. 

 

* * *

 

After all that, Thomas argued with himself about whether or not he should even attend the party that day. He thought, sprawled out on his bed for most of the morning and afternoon before Brenda decided to wander hastily in, holding two different dangly earrings against her ears. "Which ones?" Her face had reached normal-ish colour. But considering she was already pretty pale anyway, sometimes it was hard to tell. All in all, she recovered quite well in the span of a couple days. 

Thomas glanced away from his fixed stare on the ceiling to inspect the two designs. He liked the hoops. "Hoops."

Brenda furrowed her eyebrows. "You sure?" She took the specified option away from her ear to observe it some more. "Teresa said it made me look... hooker-ish."

The boy couldn't believe his ears and he sat up with eyes squinted slightly. _"Hooker-ish?"_

"Dunno'," she mused, "Maybe I'll go for the other ones instead; they suit my outfit more anyway." The girl was leaving, but did a double-take upon noticing her brother's lazy posture that made her question, "You're going, right?" 

Thomas plopped his head back down onto the cushion and his focus back onto the ceiling. "Haven't decided," he replied honestly. His sister shrugged and claimed "it'll be fun - our first party as official college students" (because apparently occasional Starbucks and McDonalds hangouts weren't enough for her and the rest of the group). She paused and lingered in the doorway as she studied the blank-faced boy. 

"If this is about what I said-"  
"-Please don't," he sighed.  
"I know I probably overreacted," she ignored his pleads and carried on," but I was just going on what Harriet _told_ me, Thomas." 

He raised his upper body with intrigue. "And what _exactly_ did she _tell_ you?" He didn't mean to sound so condescending, but at that point all he wanted was for both of the girls to stop making and believing wild assumptions. "We haven't _done_ anything," Thomas clarified after Brenda's stretched silence.

Her expression was a mix of regret and genuine _concern -_ a kind of look that the boy felt somewhat pressured under. Like someone who was being _pitied._

"Come to the party, Thomas," she spoke softly, her body slouched against the door frame. A few seconds passed before she left that posture to return to Teresa who was also busy getting ready in Brenda's bedroom down the hall. He just hoped and prayed that their conversation wasn't projected enough for her to hear. Thomas couldn't imagine the level of tragedy that would occur if that ever happened.

He glanced at his bed side clock. 

20:26

**"any time after 9"**

Thomas ruffled his undone hair and trampled towards his closet. If he was actually bothering to go, he might as well look decent.

 

* * *

 

Thomas and Brenda's mum was working a night shift at the hospital that evening, so the sister had texted her claiming they were both 'staying round a friend's house.' A crappy cover-up, but it seemed to work perfectly.

**\- ok hon, don't stay up too late x**

Teresa observed amusingly in the back seat. "You couldn't have thought of anything better?" She wore a smirk. Brenda replied with something about not wanting her to get "too suspicious" at the fact that she made a ridiculously complex lie to which the other girl agreed mockingly, shaking her head with a playful grin as she gazed out of the window into the darkened streets. It was only then that she had noticed the houses getting larger and more grander each one they passed. 

"Jesus," she muttered, to which Brenda inquired what she was on about before seeing it for herself. Thomas could only glance every now and then, being the driver and all, but even he was taken aback by the utter _beauty_ of the residences lining the streets. Each with their own set of elegant lights, both on and around the house - including the freshly cut lawns that looked disgustingly perfect even in the lack of daylight. They must have all been at least three stories high (if not more) by the time they reached the assigned address that was given by Minho.

"You sure we're in the right place?" Brenda asked curiously, who was still in slight awe along with Thomas and Teresa.  
"Must be," the driver told her. "This is the address Minho gave me."  
"Well, _that_ and it's pretty obvious, don't you think?" Teresa gestured blatantly towards one specific house that stood out among st the others for (as Teresa had pointed out) obvious reasons. The music was blaring so loudly it probably threatened each and every window (so about a hundred) - pouring with vibrantly-coloured lights and strobes - to shatter completely. Other reasons included a couple making out vigorously on the lawn, along with a couple of hooting and wolf-whistling college boys to keep them company as an audience.

"Looks like my kind of party," Teresa earned a laugh from Brenda as they both excitedly made their way out of the vehicle, their heels clacking harshly against the concrete. 

Thomas hadn't realized he was still sat in deep thought about all of his regretful life decisions until his sister tapped on the window. "You coming?" Her voice slightly muffled from the layer of glass separating them. He nodded and opened the car door before he could convince himself to start the engine again and race off, abandoning the party and any possible dilemmas that could come from it. 

 

* * *

 

They didn't bother ringing a doorbell that wouldn't be heard, so the three of them simply walked in - rude perhaps, but judging by the relentless atmosphere of this party it probably wouldn't matter, nor be acknowledged. 

Thomas would have thought the largeness of the house would manage to offer more than enough space, but inevitably he was completely wrong. Each and every room, hallway, staircase (and there were _a lot_ of staircases) were packed full of college - and possible high school students; most were drinking, smoking and laughing away, but Thomas spotted one girl actually _passed out_ at the bottom of the stairs. He didn't know whether or not to take the fact that people were stepping over her like it was nothing funnily or seriously. 

 _Jesus, it's only 10.30,_ Thomas almost laughed at the time displayed on his phone.

It took a while before they managed to find Minho and a few other familiar faces in one (yes,  _one_ ) of the front rooms, lounging about on the many sofas circling round a reasonably sized table (reasonably sized for a _coffee table,_ anyway). The air was nothing, but a thick cloud of toxins and Thomas felt as if he was able to get high just from _being_ there. 

"Tommoooo!" Minho slurred with a massive grin on his face that the other boy couldn't help, but return as he traveled towards the sofa he was slouched on along with a couple other boys and girls. Minho shouted at everyone to budge up so that Thomas could fit on and once he did, grabbed a beer from an ice bucket near-by. He used every will power within him not to obsess over the fact that Newt was sat reasonably close from across the room, observing like he always did. _Like he always did._ It also almost drained him not to stare too long at Teresa perched on his lap, stealing a drag from his cigarette and meeting his chilled, but seductive gaze. The sight of Newt brought a sudden flashback to the argument they had earlier that day. 

"Should've gotten here earlier, man," Minho told him, unfortunately not doing much to distract him from his current focus point. "Some high school freshman got dared to down ten shots of tequila," he began laughing hysterically. "God, he threw up a _tsunami_ \- right, Newt?" He called out for the blonde who was now listening intently, occasionally taking long drags from his cigarette. Although he didn't show any signs of agreeing with the enthusiastic (slightly high, Thomas assumed) friend, a simple lingered stare with a soft grin seemed to do it for him. 

Minho continued chattering wildly about previous party fuck-ups, but the other brunette was too busy doing something he absolutely _should not_ be doing. At all. And that was maintaining eye contact with Newt. The Brit's posture managed to look relaxed, but just as suggestive all the same. Even though the expression on his face and the mischievous look in his eye was the same as always, it did something different Thomas; it managed to make him feel calm, but aroused at the same time - something he never knew he would be able to experience until then. He had only consumed a few gulps of beer since he arrived, but for some reason he didn't seem to care about the limitations at the point. Limitations set by Harriet. Limitations set by Brenda. Like, _at all._ Newt made him feel reckless, so he might as well embrace it.

The blonde exhaled a cloud of smoke that ghosted thinly over his face as the music's heavy beats vibrated through Thomas' body. 

 _I want you to breathe me,_  
_Let me be your air._

He stood up - much to the sudden complains of an intoxicated Minho - and traveled towards the location of the staircase. He knew the boy would follow him. Why else would his eyes be burning into every single movement he made? 

Thomas stepped casually over the passed-out girl and secretly smiled to himself whilst on the search for the unknown. _So he's become one of those guys._

 

* * *

 

It meant a lot of things. At least, for Thomas it did.

A relief for all the sexual tension that had built up almost unbearably in the span of a mere few weeks. Their own personalized way of apologizing for the heated argument days before. A necessity. For both of them perhaps. 

Well, _it_ felt amazing to say the least.

The muffled sounds of girls and boys laughing and hollering echoed from behind the door of which Thomas was being pressed against, Newt trailing hot kisses up and down his exposed neck. The chaos going on outside was long forgotten - and definitely not missed - and instead was replaced with the fast-paced breaths (or more like _gasps_ ) coming from Thomas due to the sudden _rush_ of it all. His body felt trapped under the blonde, but he didn't dare complain; the closeness of their bodies was something he never knew he desperately needed until stood there, barely managing to keep himself steady on his weakened knees.

They hadn't kissed. Not really.

The moment Thomas found an empty room situated at the very top floor, Newt had already reached him in long, daring strides and slammed him into the door as another way of shutting it at the same time. _Convenient,_ but kinda' painful - Thomas remembers - but the Brit's lips attacking at his neck had already drowned those negative thoughts away and replaced it with something far more pleasing.

For a moment Newt had stopped kissing Thomas' neck and hovered above it for a while, taking a few seconds in order to catch his breath. Fast, heavy and warm on the other boy's skin. Thomas' head felt light and dizzy (it definitely wasn't the alcohol) and he restrained himself from the feeling of wanting to pass out there and then - out of fear of missing the  unmissable. 

 _"Tommy,"_ Newt practically gasps out his name so hard, it creates a ghostly imprint onto Thomas' skin. The nickname making his heart skip in the scariest way as his nose buried into the blonde's soft hair. Hair he had only admired from a distance as one of the boy's many distinctive features.

The very thought caused Thomas to almost laugh. Almost. Newt was a fortunate distraction from doing that. 

The Brit raised his head slowly and placed it delicately against Thomas' - his breathing still uneven and hasty. Although Newt's eyes were shut, the other boy's were open, enjoying the freedom of being able to take in all of his wonderfulness up close; from his eyelashes down to his pink, slightly worked lips. _His lips._

The urge to connect them with his own was so strong it seemed unhealthy. If it hadn't been for the muffled sounds of an uncontrollable rave, the only thing audible would have been both the boys' gentle breaths fanning each other's faces - the only thing keeping them apart. _  
_

Thomas' own breath hitched once a pair of hazel eyes met his and traveled down, steadily, to reach the brunette's lips. 

Everything was done slowly and steadily much to Thomas' surprise. He was positive that the blonde would have treated the situation more vigorously and rushed. But as soon as Newt offered some time for both of them to think, there against that door with their bodies being pressed together, the atmosphere seemed calm - almost shy. 

"Kiss me."

Those two, mumbled words caused a hectic mess within Thomas' head. Newt was acting the opposite of what the brunette expected from him. Instead of taking charge, he seemed to allow the other boy to be _guided_ through. 

Thomas knew he was unprepared, but he didn't know he was this unprepared.

As he got to grips with himself somehow and began leaning in ever so slightly, a specific name made an appearance out of nowhere - like it sensed the amount of betrayal that was about to go down. Teresa. She always managed to sneak her way in, Thomas pondered. Why else would his mouth not be on Newt's by now? The girl piled ounces upon ounces of pure guilt and regret onto Thomas' shoulders without even realizing.

This was just one of those moments where he would only shake himself out of his stupidity at the worst possible timing.

"I can't," he whispered painfully - his lips so so close, but just not there. It felt torturous and almost pointless having to reject Newt's request. 

The blonde didn't seem at all disheartened and somehow managed to get _closer_ to Thomas before murmuring back, "Yes you can," into his ear - sending shivers down the other boy's body. 

If Thomas was being honest, the very feeling of having Newt so close to him was more satisfying than anything, but then again, he knew they both wanted more than the mere presence within each other's space.

"I _know_ you can, Tommy," the Brit added somewhat smugly. Like he had no doubt in his mind that Thomas could (and would) do it; simply because it was _Newt_. 

_Who the hell would reject Newt?_

And then they were kissing. And it wasn't at all like "fireworks" or "electricity" as the books Thomas had read over and over again described. It was a moment in which everything around them stopped - the sound grew muffled and almost inaudible as it became nothing more than a non-existent background noise.

Within the darkness of the room - only streaks of light pouring in from the ginormous lamps outside - Thomas felt warmth radiating off of the other boy as the kiss grew stronger - more _needy_ compared to the gentleness and hesitation of when their lips first touched. Newt's soft exhale escaped from his mouth as Thomas' hands began exploring through the blonde's locks of hair - discovering they felt more luscious than they looked. The forceful movements against each others' mouths seemed to grow quicker the faster the pace of the music went, like they were trying to keep up with it (if not, trying to  _beat_ it).

_You know you like it when it drives you insane._

Thomas managed to escape his weakened potion against the door and flip their bodies like a coin, earning a pleasing gasp from Newt as his fingers pressed into the brunette's exposed back under his t-shirt - so hard it felt as if he was leaving a trail of indents onto the boy's skin. 

There was no doubt in Thomas' mind that Newt was out of it. It was obvious he had more than a couple sips of beer judging by the strong smell of alcohol that the other boy had only  _just_ chosen to pay attention to the minute his senses snapped out of it. 

They continued to make out to the repetitive beats that vibrated through every surface around them, but the moment Newt traveled a hand down towards _that_ region, Thomas had to speak up. The brunette separated their lips and shut his eyes as he leaned his head against the door; the Brit's own face was resting lazily against his. 

"You're drunk," Thomas sighed.  
"And that's relevant because...?" Newt managed to sound reasonably like himself - cocky and collected - but the alcohol only seemed to bring out the worst in those particular features, Thomas discovered. It also didn't help that his voice was much closer than the teen was used to, as every detail within every word flowed through Thomas like irresistible music. He had no idea how to answer the question without sounding a) desperate, b) sappy or c) both. 

Before he could come up with a solution, Newt bit down on the boy's ear softly, causing a sharp inhale out of pure surprise. "That's the thing, Tommy," _he really has to stop using that nickname before I inevitably pass out_ , "it's not."

It all seemed like a sick manipulation when Thomas really thought about it. Like, _really_ thought about it. 

And then suddenly all that sensation of warmth and excitement and pleasure was gone. Newt's mouth pressed against his skin didn't fulfill anything now that Thomas' mind was _already_ full; full of utter regret that is.

The blonde noticed the other boy's enthusiasm fade and pulled back with furrowed eyebrows. "What?" He asked, studying his face cautiously.

Thomas avoided meeting Newt's gaze and instead shook his head ever so slightly whist locking a stare onto the darkened floor; he silently refused to say anything just to cover up the fact that he didn't know what the hell _to_ say. He convinced himself of the idea that it might come out as something he would later on regret. Of course, nothing could probably top the amount of remorse he felt in this current situation.

"Fuck's sake..." he heard Newt mutter and felt himself being pushed away slightly. The very action made Thomas want to cry out and pull him back in pleading desperation; he didn't realise the power of the blonde's presence until he had experienced it as close as it could possibly get (unless the situation went further into _that_ , of course). But from the way this was turning out, Thomas believed that that had no chance of happening now. 

Newt ran a hand through his already-ruffled up hair before sighing irritably. "Don't... do this," he began to shake his head almost in _disapproval .  
_

The tone of his voice caused Thomas to look up at him. "Don't do  _what?_ _"_  he dared.   
"Don't turn this into some _fucking_ cliché," the Brit maneuvered out of his position against the door, and pulled out a cigarette on the way to a bed Thomas didn't even know was there. 

As a sparkle of harsh light flickered from Newt's lighter, the brunette managed to catch a glimpse of his illuminated face, which looked hot, but agitated all the same. The alcohol seemed to have a stirring affect on Newt that left him jittery and constantly fidgeting. His foot tapped vigorously on the carpet as he smoked his cigarette and glanced up at Thomas, who was now gazing at him expectantly by the door. "This isn't a _'I fuck you and then realise that I have actual feelings for you'_ thing, okay?" He spoke harshly; no hesitation came through in his voice. Thomas attempted to do the same, although inside was a completely different matter.  

"You're putting words in my mouth," he seethed at the blonde.

Newt wore a condescending smirk as he exclaimed, "No, Tommy! What I want to put in your mouth is my _dick_ , but that's obviously not gonna' happen due to your inability to stop bloody... _thinking_ ," he spoke with such passion that it almost made Thomas forget what a terrible thing he was talking about. 

He observed the curling smoke as it left Newt's open lips. "Okay..." the brunette said slowly with his eyebrows raised now in intrigue. "So what you're saying is that I have to just see this as some kind of _drunk... party hook-up_ , right? Is that what you want?" He asked, to which the blonde almost immediately replied exasperatedly, "Yes, Tommy; that's _exactly_ what I want."

Thomas nodded, as if in approval of the confirmation, and walked towards Newt (his interest visibly increasing as he noticed the other boy's suggestive way of approaching). The smoker's eyes traveled and his cigarette seemed to be long forgotten by the time Thomas reached him - his own eyes never once leaving the Brit's.

"Unfortunately, Newt," he bent down in order to level his mouth with the other boy's awaiting ear, "I respect myself way too fucking much to be _corrupted_ by someone like _you_ ," he hissed each word like venom; clearly; no hesitation. As he leaned back and studied Newt's emotionless expression unfold, he quickly added, "And I'm not _nearly_ drunk enough."

The boy sat on the bed showed no further signs of anger, and instead nodded with his eyes glued to the floor - his cigarette now balancing lazily between his fingers as he looked up and said, "Then go drink until you get _fucking_ alcohol poisoning; see if I give a shit." His expression now hard and careless. 

Thomas took no time to turn around and stride towards the door - ready to leave this utter mess once and for all. But as his hand fitted around the doorknob, a menacing voice sounded behind him. 

"Y'know, you're not special!" Newt called out. 

Thomas' shoulders drooped slightly, as he readied himself for yet _another_ lecture that was bound to drop more of whatever self-esteem was left in him. 

Newt carried on. "There are _plenty_ of boys _and_ girls at this party that wouldn't even hesitate to fuc-"  
"-Why not instead of fucking the entire college, Newt, why don't you start giving a shit about the person that actually _cares_ about your well-being?" Thomas spun back around to face him, and noticed Newt's slightly taken aback look. "Y'know, _that_ girl?" The brunette pressed, "The girl that's probably downstairs wondering where the _hell_ you are right now?"

He sounded angry; frustrated. At this point all he wanted to do was strangle the boy. _God, he's so stupid._

At Newt's silence (for once), Thomas finished with, "Get your head out of your ass, Newt," before exiting the room with a loud slam of the door; although it didn't come off as much of an impact as he would have liked due to the deafening music. 

Thomas lingered there for a while against the other side of the door - breathing in and out with a few muttered curses tied in between. 

 

* * *

 

He trailed back down the stairs and realised that the party had somehow managed to become _wilder_ than when he left. 

The crowd of simultaneous animals raving to the DJ-controlled music reminded Thomas of those music videos he always thought were too unrealistic. But there he was - _witnessing_ one. Within the flood of people, he saw Harriet grinding her hips against another guy's and Thomas couldn't help, but think a lot of judgmental and spiteful thoughts. Some were along the lines of, _Oh, so she can have all the fun she wants with a guy and I can't?_ But then he saw Teresa - care free and fulfilled as she danced with Brenda - and took it all back.

The boy started to genuinely believe that out of all these absolutely _wasted_ teenagers, he was the most fucked in the head.

"Tommooo!" Minho practically dragged him into the sea of sweaty bodies and Thomas noticed him strutting his hips to the beat whilst doing so. 

Though the amount of people pressed up against him didn't seem satisfying (nor comfortable), he felt too bad to refuse Minho's attempt at getting him into a party mood. And whilst admiring the boy's dorky smile; his flustered face and disheveled hair that was normally gelled to perfection, all he could think about was how he wanted to. He wanted to dance with him. He wanted to offer to go do shots and get absolutely smashed alongside him. He wanted to do all the things a normal friend would do with another friend at a party.

But,

"What's wrong?" Minho furrowed his eyebrows and shouted in his ear upon noticing the brunette's focus somewhere else.

Instead he decided to kiss him.   

It went silent for a split second, but then the beat dropped and everyone around them was going insane; all jumping in sync with their arms stretched out into the air; the feeling of sweat clinging onto their skin and alcohol pumping through their bloodstream. For Thomas, all he felt was Minho's lips moving daringly against his; the boy's hand caressing the back of his neck as he pulled their bodies closer together. The music exhilarated through Thomas' veins, much to the comparison of when it was practically compressed. Blocked out and muffled. Now it was blasting at him from all directions, making his body tremble with pure thrill.  

They were almost lost in time, but Minho eventually pulled away with slowly and revealed his eyes to meet with Thomas' - although the brunette lingered from doing that for a while, afraid of what he might see.

"Thomas..." the kiss had somehow managed to calm down Minho's hype, but the look and sound of drowsiness was still hinted within the questioning of the boy's voice. 

He couldn't handle the pressure of coming up with an answer to what just happened. He couldn't handle the intensity the other teen's eyes obtained as he continued awaiting an explanation from him - or _anything_ really. He couldn't handle anything in that moment.

Thomas shook his head and that only made Minho's eyebrows furrow deeper and the look of confusion stronger. He pushed past him and simply shoved his way through what-seemed-like an infinite crowd of drunk, out of control teenagers. Thomas could faintly hear Minho's calls of his name, but he blocked them out; his only focus was to get outside. The house suddenly seemed confined. It was causing a tight sensation within his chest that didn't seem promising to improve the longer he stayed in there.

Reaching the doorway out of the current room, he made the terrible mistake of turning around one final time. The sight of what he was witnessing made his heart drop and surely stop beating.

Newt approached Teresa, who was gleaming with laughter with Harriet, and wrapped his arms around her waist. Her expression softened the moment she turned her head and saw him smiling gently back at her. Then they danced together. 

Thomas wanted to scream at himself to stop being such a fucking idiot who can't make up their mind. Because that's what he is; that's what he's always been. He's just been too scared to admit it to anyone, including himself.

But the fact of the matter is this: he felt jealous; heartbroken; shit. Especially shit. 

Before he knew it, a beer was shoved into his hand and another guy's mouth was shouting down his ear. "You look like you could use it!" Gally smirked and disappeared back into the sea of people. Thomas was tempted to go find Minho at that point - apologise, maybe. He didn't exactly know what to do, but escape the ability to see Newt and Teresa across the room.

He managed to down the beer in under three minutes before joining Gally, Winston and a couple others who were doing shots. Frypan exclaimed once he saw him and asked about his whereabouts earlier. 

"We missed you, man!" He gave Thomas' upper arm a brief, brotherly slap before resuming his focus on pouring equal(ish) amounts of tequila into the shot glasses. Most of the liquid spilled onto the kitchen counter top without Frypan's care.

"I missed me too," Thomas muttered. 

He grabbed the nearest shot and threw his head back. The harsh burn of the liquid and its ghastly, bitter flavour as it traveled down his throat caused Thomas to scrunch up his face and make a _"ugh"_ noise, as the rest of the group loudly cheered him on - including Gally, who was part of the group banging their fists on the table during Thomas' second shot.

Upon reaching the third one, the boy knew one thing and one thing only.   
He was going to drink until he got _fucking_ alcohol-poisoning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> where are all my lowkey thominho shippers at?! dis one's for you...  
> OKAY I DIDN'T INTEND FOR THIS TO BE SUCH A LONG ASS CHAPTER, BUT THERE WAS SO MUCH I WANTED TO FIT IN AND I KEPT GETTING IDEAS AND THEN BY THE END OF IT I DIDN'T KNOW HOW TO FINISH SO I JUST... sigghhh  
> i can't guarantee that chapters in the future will always be this long, as i'm pretty sure this was an exception :') but oml i really hope you enjoyed it because it was probably one of the most hardest ones for me to write so far (as well as enjoyable, obviously). apologies for any possible shite writing skills throughout this chapter, i'm ill and was desperate to finish it for you guys.  
> this fic also hit 100 kudos??? you guys are amazing wow  
> tweet me @lMMORTALNEWT and also feel free to leave lil' comments, as it would make my life exceptionally better knowing i'm fulfilling your guy's expectations for this story:-) 
> 
> you might not be loving the plot at the moment, but i wanted to shake things up, y'know? gotta keep it interestingg^.^  
> ignore any silly grammar mistakes - again, i didn't proof read the whole thing, so please forgive and forget!


	10. chapter ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the results of that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dedicated to maartje for keeping me forever motivated...  
> love you, poocorn  
> (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

Thomas awoke to the sound of bubbling, fizzing and faint laughter. 

As he slowly forced his eyes open to the harshness of the sudden light, he witnessed a glass of water being dominated by aspirin like a fog as the pill hurriedly overclouded the transparency. 

"Here," a husky voice muttered.

Peeling his concentration away from the glass, Thomas managed to catch a glimpse of the familiar mop of blonde hair before it disappeared behind the shutting door, but the urge to call out a simple "thank you" was overtaken by the grogginess a deathly hangover beheld. What a great start to the day.

It took a while before the boy noticed that there was another person's breathing besides his. 

The brunette was hesitant at first to turn his body, afraid that he might wake whoever it was next to him, or afraid to discover _who_ exactly it was next to him for that matter. The second one seemed the most intimating if he was being honest, but he decided to get a grip and just see who it was already. 

Thomas took his time carefully and steadily (on behalf of his throbbing head, threatening to cause serious pain every time he moved even the slightest bit too erratically). Trying not to groan at the aching sensation pretty much over his entire body, Thomas sighed and moved his eyes hesitantly beside him. 

_Don't be Minho. Don't be Minho. Don't be Minho._

"Oh."

Surprisingly it wasn't anyone Thomas knew that well, although he had been in college for merely a few months. All the same it was just a pretty face. _Very pretty face at that,_ Thomas raised his eyebrows as he inspected the charming looking boy, who had one of the most defined and _perfect_ jawlines he had ever seen; his hair tousled and pretty much covering his entire face, but still managing to look flawless atop his head; his olive skin only added to the dangerously hot appearance. All that was visible features wise, were his lips and a fraction of the side of his face. That was all Thomas needed to prove that he was what they would call, "a keeper". 

If he could, Thomas would probably lay there all day just staring - wondering how he only remembers certain pieces from the night before, but silently cursing to himself not to think about how much of a _hypocrite_ he's being. Of course, the only clarification of the events that occurred last night, were the bare nakedness he uncovered when glancing under the sheets. It hadn't really kicked in yet, so all Thomas could do was sit there staring into nothing as the busy sounds of chatter went on from downstairs.

He eventually drew his attention away from the alluring, sleeping stranger and remembered the glass of aspirin placed onto the bedside table. It was only a small favour, but the very token sent a wave of appreciation and tugged upwards at Thomas' lips into a tiny grin. Reaching out and taking the first sip, the body next to him stirred and groaned, causing the brunette to face him mid-gulp. 

"Hey," he greeted the un-named boy.

The other teen rubbed at his squinted eyes (quite adorably) before sighing deeply. "Hi," he smiled warmly at Thomas.

_Oh my God, he's beautiful._

"Want some?" Thomas offered the glass, quickly remembering that he wasn't the only one with a hangover that could potentially kill.

He gave a hum in confirmation and took it gladly. "God," he exclaimed after finishing a gulp of the said cure, "what did I even drink last night?" 

"Lots," Thomas replied as he stretched his worn-out limbs and moaning in appreciation as he did so. 

He felt the other boy's amused gaze fixated on him and Thomas tried his hardest not to let that pressure of a one-man audience get to him. "I feel awful," he announced with a dorky smile as he faced the boy next to him, "I don't even know you're name." He decided to state it plain and simple to save the potential embarrassment later on. 

"It's Adam," he grinned. Adam didn't seem offended - more _knowing_ than anything.   
"Thomas," Thomas said softly.

 

* * *

 

Of course he dreaded going downstairs. Downstairs was where all of _them_ were. _Them_ being the problematic group of friends he had found himself getting thrown into. And his sister, but they were bound by birth, so that didn't really count. 

The mouth-watering smell of pancakes was enough to tempt him, however, and Thomas soon found himself wandering into the kitchen (a room he managed to find simply by following the sweet scent and sounds of familiar voices) in just his shirt and boxers. Around the house on the way, the boy had to step over a couple knocked-out bodies scattered around the floor, but nothing too shocking considering it was quite a draining night.

It was rather refreshing to meet the faces of some people, but then again, there were also simply too many faces he really _didn't_ need seeing that particular morning. Inevitably, Newt, Minho and Teresa were the mighty trio. All there, naturally.

Minho. He kind of hoped that he wouldn't remember the events concerning him last night. The very memories of it made Thomas regret every single decision he'd ever made, but he also dreaded to think what kind of tension would be between them if Minho remembered himself.

Teresa and Brenda were whisking up the batter as Newt and Frypan cooked and flipped them into perfectly done pancakes (in  _ridiculously_ -sized pans might he add) before serving them into piles, plate upon plate. Around the counter, everyone's attention seemed to come to an immediate pause as soon as Thomas walked in, and so did the boy's walking itself.

Scanning past everyone in the group, his gaze lingered momentarily on Newt, who also dropped his pan that was mid-air - too busy studying the brunette's tousled state in quite a daze. _He must've already known though,_ Thomas claimed to himself. _He literally walked into the room to give me an aspirin, for God's sake - how could he not notice another body in the bed?_

His view then managed to accidentally land on Minho, but the boy was just looking down and Thomas seriously hoped it wasn't because of the reason he assumed it was.  

He had had enough of the silence. "Morning," he grumbled - making his way towards the jug of orange juice placed on the counter. 

"Productive night, Thomas?" Frypan was the first to speak out of the group of perky witnesses. 

"Something like that," he replied plainly whilst pouring himself a glass.

Around him were expressions of amusement, curiosity and even raised eyebrows in "Well, well, well." Some expressions were unreadable (the winner of them all being Newt of course). But then again, when was he ever truly _readable?_

"How are you all so fucking chirpy?" Thomas questioned irritably, but really it was just something to distract himself from staring at Newt; he couldn't help the fact that the blonde looked impossibly hot in the most ruffed up way that morning.

A few of the girls and boys laughed at the other teen's annoyance, but one chose not to participate.

_"You aren't?"_

The amusement around the kitchen faded and Thomas looked up to meet Newt's ambitious eyes. At first he wanted to say, _"What the hell does that mean?"_ but the simple question sent Thomas' mind whirring and it didn't take long for him to realise _what_ he meant until the boy spoke up again. "Adam's _good,_ isn't he?" The Brit spoke mischievously, but no smirk was portrayed on his face - just confident intensity that he knew was going to trip the brunette up on his words. Which it did, no mistake there. 

Thomas and Newt fixated on each other with perfect knowing that everyone else around them was watching intently, as well as slightly confusingly. Teresa glanced back and forth between the two boys, who shared equally daring looks. She raised her eyebrows and huffed out a small grin. "Adam?" The girl inquired.

"Yeah?" A boy trudged in after hearing his name being called.

Everyone's attention then diverted towards the new arrival. Great. Thomas wanted nothing more than to go home, sleep and consider the pro's and con's of becoming a cliche college dropout. 

**_"Don't turn this into some fucking cliche."_ **

The sudden memory struck into Thomas' vision; the violence of Newt's memorable voice caused a high-pitched ringing that only cleared after a few moments of vigorous shut eye. Piece by piece, his brain clarified each and every event that the boy was unfortunate enough to be a part of - that argument being the most unwanted out of all. Thomas rattled his head slightly and forced his scattered brain to return to present day (not that that was any better either). 

The particular attention of the girls were highly acquainted for and obviously recognised by Adam, as he gave a playful smirk to them all before returning his focus onto Thomas (he hadn't decided whether or not that was a thing to be pleased about). He was now fully clothed and face fully visible - _that_ was something to be pleased about in Thomas' point of view. The complete sight of him only revealed how much more breathtaking he was. 

"Hi," the boy smiled.

Adam's expression noticeably changed as his gaze landed on Newt, who was inspecting the whole scene just as curiously as everyone else. "Newt," Adam greeted halfheartedly. Newt offered nothing more than a mere nod in acknowledgement. _Not even a good nod at that._

It didn't take a genius to figure out that the two boys had some sort of history, but it was just a case of Thomas working out the strange mix of emotions he received from that fact. 

Brenda - being the most dependent sibling of the two - broke the tension everyone else didn't know how to break. "Hey, Tom," she spoke above her bowl of cereal, "we gotta' jump if we wanna' be back before mom gets home from work." 

The sudden interruption thankfully shook Thomas out of being unbearably limited to his words. "Sure," he replied cautiously, and moving out of his seat at the same pace; it was as if any rushed movements would trigger the nastiest of fall outs between _anyone_ at that point, what with the amount of tension lingering in the air.

All eyes were moving between Thomas, Newt and Adam. 

 

* * *

 

Thomas was buckling the belt on his jeans when Newt walked in. 

The brunette was startled for a split moment before he noticed who it was and raised his eyebrows at the intrusion. "Knocking is a thing, y'know," he said. 

"It's my house," the Brit shrugged. 

Thomas rolled his eyes relentlessly and began the infinite search for his socks. "What do you want?" He grumbled.

Newt's lips upturned. "You really _are_ cranky in the mornings, aren't you?" The blonde waited for Thomas to meet his gaze, which the boy did - only to express the pure annoyance he gained from Newt's very presence in the room. 

Thomas successfully found one of the two socks under the bed and began fiddling with the material as the Brit carried on. "Look, Tommy, we _all_ do things that we wouldn't normally do sober..." his casual way of speaking made Thomas curious as to what he was hinting at. "And later on, we inevitably regret them."

The other boy scoffed - keeping his eyes fixed onto the sock as he said slowly, "Who said I _regretted_ anything?"  

Newt raised his eyebrows and dared, "So you don't regret what happened with you and Adam?" 

"No, not really," Thomas looked up at him and shook his head slightly. 

In reality, the teen hadn't reached a conclusive grasp of his feelings about last night with Adam, but something about Newt's so-sure attitude made the brunette want to take him aback - if that was even possible. 

The Brit stood still and silent for a moment and studied the boy in front of him. "And you don't regret what happened between you and I?" His voice softened; the question seemed more delicate in comparison to when he had asked about Adam, as if the answer to this one was more valuable to him.

"I..." Thomas began, but then hesitated. The very inquiry startled him; he didn't even begin to think that the other boy would even _remember_ those particular events between them. Thomas glanced nervously back and forth between Newt and the floor, and eventually his vision stayed onto the floor after not being able to handle the intensity of which the blonde's eyes held. "That's different," he claimed weakly. 

Newt didn't say anything; not even a simple "Ah" or smirk in amusement at the other boy's failed attempt of giving a relevant answer. Instead he lowered his concentration and stared off into space for a while, and all Thomas could do was endure the silence as he did so. He felt bad for giving such a misleading reply, but at the same time, something made him believe that Newt knew the raw truth behind the words that were spoken. 

Although the trance didn't seem broken during the third question, the very words cracked Thomas' heart like an ice pick. The blonde slowly revealed his eyes to meet the boy's and suddenly, everything seemed on edge - including Thomas himself.

"And you don't regret what happened between you and Minho?"

His heart felt like it was being twisted in the most torturous of ways and all the brunette wanted to do, was hit the rewind button back to his first ever day of college. He would make an effort to befriend different people. He would ignore _(like, really ignore)_ any suggestive behaviour that Newt aimed towards him, and instead focus on his studies; spend time with friends that _don't_ cause mind-fucks and endless days of stress and over thinking. That's what he would do if he could hit rewind. 

But, much to his dismay, that rewind button wasn't in existence at that moment in time. He was there, standing in front of a boy who has revealed the nauseating fact that he witnessed Thomas making out with his best friend. 

"Yeah..." Newt nodded knowingly in reply to Thomas' stunned silence. "I saw that."

The intention of taking Newt aback had ultimately backfired, leaving the brunette at a lost for words. _Is he mad? Repulsed?_ Thomas' mind listed a number of possibilities that Newt could've been feeling towards Thomas, and he hated the idea of every single one of them. 

"I get it though," the Brit spoke up instead of the other once again, "Minho's quite the catch, isn't he?" 

At this point, the boy was speaking with pure amusement, as if the two were old friends simply catching up. 

Newt blinked and raised the level of his head in order to study the brunette further. "I'm just worried you don't know how to _fish,_ Tommy," he plucked at a weary spot within Thomas and the boy seethed at the patronizing pun Newt had just attacked him with. 

After forcing down his temptations to wrangle the other boy's throat, Thomas calmed his thoughts and instead questioned, "Do _you?"_ To which Newt shrugged and replied carelessly, "I like to think so, yes."

The brunette quirked an eyebrow and scoffed slightly before reaching down to grab his shoes. _Anyone could've guessed that answer with ease,_ he thought spitefully whilst doing so. 

With his shoes in one hand, Thomas blanked Newt completely as he wandered towards the door. He felt the other boy's eyes on his every move, but he only chose to communicate with him once he re-opened the door and stepped one foot out. "I don't think you do," he said truthfully.  

Unfortunately, Thomas didn't get the chance to proceed watching the blonde's faltered expression unfold, as he was already shutting the door behind him and trudging back downstairs. He was met with a inpatient-looking Brenda.

And Adam.

"Hi?" Thomas sounded almost confused at the boy's unexpected presence.

He felt Brenda in the corner of his eye, watching pleasantly as Adam reached for Thomas' hand and placed a crumpled piece of paper within it. "My number," he explained. "In case you wanna'... I dunno'" His laugh was a mix of nerves and hesitance, but for Thomas it seemed very flattering. He almost forgot that his sister and many of his not-so-secretive friends were watching. 

"Sure," he gave a soft smile - still feeling a bit phased from the draining encounter he had with Newt a mere few minutes ago. 

 

* * *

 

Newt didn't show up to college on Monday the next week. But Minho did.

So that was why the two of them were skipping their afternoon classes, settled on the usual wall - waiting for one of them to speak first. 

The walk over was unbearably silent, and Thomas doesn't think that he can handle anymore 'opening of the mouths, but being too hesitant to even comprehend what it was he wanted to say.' But for a while, it seemed as if Minho was perfectly _fine_ with waiting - his legs dangling as he took a deep breath in and sighed. "I've kissed people at pretty much every single party I've been to, Thomas. You're no exception," he turned to look at him and shrugged with a relaxed expression. 

Thomas didn't meet his gaze and raised his eyebrows. "Way to make a guy feel special," he commented sarcastically. 

At that, Minho asked awkwardly, "Did it... _mean_ something to you, or...?" 

"No!" Thomas quickly interjected. The last thing he wanted was to add yet another person onto his growing list of uncertainty. 

Minho then raised his hands whilst exclaiming, "Wow, okay then," with a pretty offended tone of voice due to the other boy's quick-to-deny attitude.

Thomas sighed at his capability to fuck things up within one word. "No, I... I didn't mean it like-shit," he shook his head as a way of saying "I give up," and Minho just laughed amusingly. 

"It's okay, man," he reassured the brunette with a grin. "We were drunk," he stated, "People do crazy shit when they're drunk, y'know, we'll look back on this and laugh our asses off," he extended his hand to reach Thomas' point of view. "Deal?" 

Thomas chose not to bring up the fact that he was, in reality, barely intoxicated during the kiss, and instead clasp the awaiting hand with his own. "Deal," he agreed amusingly.

It hadn't gone as smoothly as Thomas had hoped, nor expected, but it was sorted. For him at that point, it was an achievement not worth doubting. 

_Bzzz_

The pair swung themselves off of the wall after Minho's perky suggestion of getting takeout, and was instead replaced with Thomas' insisting of going back to college. He had already missed enough classes as it is and he dreaded of the possible, "Come sit down. I wanna' have a talk's," that were to be offered from both his mum and sister. 

The boy reached into his pocket in instinct to the ringtone going off as he and Minho began their journey back.

What he read practically stopped Thomas dead in his tracks in order to observe the short text further. 

**n: come over. i need sociology notes.**

"Who is it?" Minho inquired due to the other boy's sudden stop in movement.   
"Just my mom," Thomas lied. 

he brunette cursed at himself for managing to do such a thing without even the slightest bit of hesitation or thought. Why did I lie, why did I lie, why did I lie... Thomas replayed the same, unsolved phrase in his head whilst he furiously and quickly typed back a reply. 

**t: ask minho**

The next reply came almost instantly.

**n: he's shit at taking notes**

**t: teresa then**

**n: just come over fgs**

**t: i'll take a pic of the notes and send it to u**

**n: tommy**

Thomas' heartbeat began raising at the amount of sincerity a simple, pixelated word could produce. And, for some unknown, exceedingly frustrating reason, it worked.

 

* * *

 

Driving down that street seemed like a completely different experience even though he had been there before. The earl afternoon sun made each and every house glisten in their beauty; the freshly-cut lawns bathing in all their vibrant, emerald glory. Thomas drove in subtle wonder until he reached the address that had managed to plant an everlasting reminder in his head of the dawning occurrences during that night. 

Thomas had gotten as far as the doorstep before he stopped - backpack slung over his shoulder with the halfheartedly written notes inside - and evaluated what he was actually doing. 

 _He needs notes, Thomas. Nothing more, nothing less,_ one side of his brain stated plain and simple. If it hadn't been for the foreshadowed interruption of the other side, then maybe he would've rung the doorbell already. _He could've asked anyone and, yet, he chose me,_ he evaluated. _It's Newt, for God's sake. He'd never just want notes._

"You lost?" A young boy's voice sounded and caused Thomas to glance up at the whereabouts from where it came from. 

His sight landed on a short, brown-haired boy who was observing Thomas' current lingering state from the exterior of the house next door - Thomas assumed it was his due to the keys that were rattling from inside his clenched fist.

The distance between the two boys proved to be quite the extent (what with the almost _questioning_ gaps between each household, so Thomas had to speak louder than that of usual. "Uh... no," he replied with uncertainty much to his dismay. "I'm just... thinking, I guess." 

Silence ensued after that, as the boy looked in thought before looking up and saying, "You a friend of Newt's?" 

The very wording of that question almost bubbled a laugh up Thomas' throat, but instead he cleared it and stated, "Yeah, I guess," with a shrug.

The other brunette's lips upturned and widened slightly. "You _guess_ quite a lot, don't you?" 

Thomas felt taken aback at first by the statement - blinking once to frown slightly at the boy. He wanted to ask him what exactly what he meant by that inquiry, but all Thomas could fit in was a pathetic sounding, "Uhh..." before the neighbour had began abruptly finalising the conversation himself. "Well..." he tossed his keys back and forth between both hands, "I'll leave you to think..." the boy unlocked his door and stepped one foot in, but turned his head at the last minute and grinned. "... I guess." 

Thomas conjured up a small chuckle and shook his head even after the door had shut. Turning his attention back onto the door in hand, the teen found that the small talk had managed to relax his posture, as well as his state of mind - uneasy just a few moments ago, but now had no possible over-thinking present. 

He outstretched his arm to press firmly on the doorbell; the deep, delicate tone could be heard from where it signalled his arrival inside. It was amusing to think that this house was to be simply wandered in without a care a few nights ago - not to mention thoroughly trashed. 

A person, of a completely different gender to what Thomas was originally expecting, uncovered from behind the door. "Can I help you?" The woman smiled warmly. 

The middle-aged lady wore a formal, black and white maid uniform, and her chocolate brown hair was smoothed and styled into an elegant do-up. Thomas observed her for a while whilst drawing out his infamous, "Uhh..." before forcing the reasonable answer to be pursued. "Newt wanted me to bring him some notes," Thomas explained, "since he missed class today."

"Ah, of course!" The maid explained. "Thomas, right?"

"Yeah," he confirmed with a nod, but secretly he was slightly gushing over the fact that Newt mentioned him to someone else (even if that "someone else" is his maid). 

The woman invited the boy in heartily and informed Thomas of Newt's location. The reference to him made the brunette wonder why he hasn't acknowledged or even _noticed_ his arrival yet. 

"Top floor," the maid told him perkily, "left, straight down the hall until you reach the very last room," she finished with a smile.

Thomas nodded in appreciation before beginning his journey up the stairs; by the third flight, he began wondering why on earth this family didn't own a _freaking_ elevator. 

 

* * *

 

 

He knocked the said door timidly. "Newt?" He called out after far too many seconds of no, "come in."

At first, the brunette considered the possibility that he might have gone the wrong way, what with it being a mansion and all. But then he mentally retraced his steps and came to the conclusion that he definitely took the right path. And to the conclusion that he was over-thinking, yet again. 

Thomas' gaze lowered until it reached the slick door handle, and after knocking a final time - which resulted in the expected return of silence - he took it on himself to push down the handle and enter at his own risk. 

The entire surroundings of the room caused Thomas' body to pause abruptly - too distracted in the observing of what-seemed-like a _wonderland_.

It was a bedroom fit for a modern day prince.

Posters upon posters plastered on each and every wall, most of which had bands Thomas had never even _heard_ of. Although the size of the room overwhelmed the boy completely, the mass of wall decorations, furniture and _marvellous_ amount of books had managed to fill the space quite amazingly. The colouring - from the cream carpeting to the dark, sleek designs some of the furniture had to offer - brought a calming sense of wonderment upon Thomas, and he couldn't help, but stare some more. Scanning the room, what caught his eyes the most (if possible), were the collages of art - drawings, mainly done with watercolour and charcoal; some of which were simply pencil; all of which were absolutely _breathtaking._

From what Thomas could see, the art pieces ranged from human faces, to random scenes from beautiful landscapes; black and white pencil, to vibrant, splotched acrylics - dancing across the paper like it was its own purpose.

"Jesus," the boy whispered to himself, as his body continued spinning in order to keep up with his latched and dazed observation around the room.

It took a further couple minutes before the realisation hit that he was _in_ Newt's _room._ And that that fact lead onto the other realisation that Newt should be in his room as well. Thomas' heart raced as he locked his eyes onto the unforgettable mop of blonde hair across the room, illuminated by the open window of which he was facing. The boy's head occasionally moved every time he quickly scanned the sketch he was currently doing, beautifully displayed across the page - an abandoned ashtray with a newly butted out cigarette drawing wispy smoke. The music playing through his headphones was blaring to the point where even Thomas could clearly hear it, which inevitably explained the Brit's inability to answer the knocking of his door. 

Thomas found himself searching for a nearby book to read before dumping his bag and seating himself on one of the many seats there were to offer. He decided it was only polite to allow the boy to continue working in peace, and it was nice for once to be around Newt without having to worry about any mischievous remarks that might cause the questioning of his entire life. It was nice. Running his fingers down the pages of his chosen book, not really reading, but studying, as most of the time sat there was to watch the other boy travel his pencil across the paper; to watch as he tilted his head cutely in order to judge the drawing further, taking moments to sit back lazily before rushing back in to make an improvement. 

To watch Newt in his own personalised atmosphere. 

So of course, after many undisturbed moments of what-he-thought was pure loneliness, Thomas' presence was obviously going to scare the living shit out of him.

The blonde leaned back into his chair for the millionth time since Thomas' arrival, and sighed deeply as he examined the work of art he had produced so far. After a thorough ten seconds of looking, the boy yanked out his earphones - around the same time that Thomas chose to cough. 

" _Bloody..._ " Newt jumped out of his skin, but upon noticing who it was seated comfortably behind him, cursed a little calmer, "...fuck." 

"Figured I should let you work," Thomas informed him upon noticing the Brit's taken aback expression.

More time was spent in silence as one of the boys simply nodded in (what Thomas would like to think) appreciation before ruffling his hair and inquiring about the notes. "Uh, yeah..." the brunette muttered, placing the book onto the table nearby and delving into his abandoned bag. All of his moves were intensely watched by Newt from a distance. 

Thomas brought out the scuffed notebook and flicked through to today's class notes by the time he reached Newt. "Here," he handed it to him without meeting his gaze. 

Newt took the notes off of him without any signs of gratitude, which Thomas found slightly rude; even a simple, "thanks," would've serviced. However, fortunately the boy's absence from the drawing gave the brunette a chance to study it from up close. Now that he had a clear view, Thomas realised it was of a half-human, half-lion face. Although the majority of it so far was outlined sketches, it managed to succeed miles further than anything Thomas had produced in the past. "It's good," he turned his head to find the artist seated on another chair - a leather, rotating one that was placed behind a desk; a Mac Pro computer adding to the "I'm clearly richer than you" essence that the room gave off. He stated the word, "good," but he truly meant so much more than that. 

"It's getting there," Newt murmured, his attention mainly focused on scanning each set of notes. 

He thought the idea of Newt being a talented artist would surprise him, but for some reason it didn't. The amount of new stuff Thomas had yet to learn about the blonde was something he found himself ready for. This was just one of those things. 

"I talked with your... _neighbour?"_   Thomas wasn't sure if they even called each other that considering how far apart each house is. 

Newt nodded. "Yeah, Aris... he's cool."

That seemed to be the end of that topic, so instead the brunette carried on observing Newt as his eyes glued to the various scribbles across the page. 

"You're not gonna' copy them down?" Thomas asked, intrigued that the boy didn't seem in any hurry to do so. 

"I have a brain. I store most valuable information in there," the Brit continued frowning down at the notebook with his fingers resting on his lips, almost muffling his words completely. 

 _Of course he does,_ Thomas rolled his eyes with the opportunity of not being caught for once. 

"And you remember all of it?" The brunette began fiddling with the different bits and bobs that were situated about the shelves and walls. 

"If I can actually _read_ it, that is..." Newt raised his eyebrows and squinted his eyes at the paper. 

Thomas' head spun at the sudden realisation of what the blonde was hinting at. "My writing isn't _that_ bad..." he defended with an offended frown. He watched as Newt's lips perked upwards into a tiny, mischievous grin as he continued scanning the notes. Thomas paused in thought. "Is it?" He questioned the boy. 

Newt gave up hiding the amusement and scoffed lightly. "Not as bad as Minho's," he claimed - as if to, somehow, make the insult _less_ insulting. 

Thomas exclaimed, "Oh gee, _thanks_ ," sarcastically, to which the blonde finally looked up, his expression a mix of playfulness and pure intrigue as he shamelessly checked Thomas out from afar.

It was only when the brunette did a double-take, did he notice the other boy's staring. "What?" He asked, trying to hide the nerves that Newt's look managed to aim. The other boy's jaw then clenched and he swiped his tongue once over his lips before looking down, as if in second thought about what he was going to say. Thomas could have sworn that he had never seen a sight so beautiful. 

Newt cleared his throat. "Thank you, by the way..." for once, it was him avoiding to make eye contact. Thomas couldn't help, but feel as if the tables have been turned, "...for the notes," the boy held up the book in clarification, his body fidgeting in his seat. 

"No problem," Thomas replied softly. He turned back around and onto the drawing. 

"I slept with Teresa."

Thomas' body became stiff and so did his ability to speak; it was as if something inside his throat blocked any words from escaping, and so, he was left there - speechless. His concentration, although it seemed as if it was still on the drawing, was somewhere else entirely.

"I said I slept with-"

"Yeah, I heard you," the boy interjected, his voice sounding raw and forced. 

He began wondering how on earth the situation had managed to esculate up to here. He couldn't bare facing Newt as he continued talking hauntingly. "It was after we..." the blonde didn't need to carry on that sentence, as Thomas knew perfectly well what he meant. The very idea punched at his chest like a bus and caused his eyes to shut for a while in order to process it.

Thomas had no idea how to respond in any other way than acting like he didn't care. "Why are you telling me this?" He asked accusingly, still refusing to look at the Brit. Part of that question was completely genuine, but the other part was purely a cover-up for the break down that was occurring beneath.

"Well, Teresa's your best friend and all..." Newt shrugged.

"So... what? You feel the need to inform me of your sexual activities with her?" Thomas snapped and chose that moment to turn around. 

Newt looked just as at a loss for words as the other boy did a few moments ago, so he took advantage of that to remind him of something. "Newt, I've said it before and I'll say it again," he made sure that the blonde met his eye before finishing. "I'm always gonna' choose Teresa over you."

It came as no surprise that he found it harder to say those words, now that they were both sober _and_ in daylight. 

But Newt responded a lot faster and a lot less hesitant than Thomas expected. "Then _why_ did you kiss me, Thomas?" He asked frustratingly. "You knew what you were doing. You were perfectly sober, so why?" His English accent only added to the intimidation of the sudden inquiry. 

Thomas swallowed the angry lump that was built up within his throat and said sternly, "Just _stop_ using Teresa."

Newt's arms crossed daringly and he sat further back into his seat. "What? Like you're using Adam?" His eyebrows raised in suspicion crossed with obvious knowing. It wasn't a question he asked in order to receive an answer. It was more of a challenge. A challenge that Thomas took. 

He delved into his pocket to grab his phone and scroll through his contacts until he reached a newly added one. Upon pressing the call button, Newt's confusion grew more into that of realisation. 

"Hi, Adam?" Thomas spoke once the rings had stopped. The Brit's body rose slightly from his seat at hearing the name and the other boy kept his eyes on him during the call. "Yeah... I was wondering if you were free tonight," his lips upturned at the sight of Newt's cautious state. He wasn't entirely sure what this action was even going to prove (aside from using Adam even more), but the chance of experiencing the blonde's astounded expression was a chance worth taking. 

 _"Give me the phone,"_ Newt mouthed, creeping closer towards Thomas who was oppositely taking steps back. 

He almost fell on his ass due to a step he didn't even realise was there, but thankfully, it resulted in a mere stumble. The books that were knocked over in the process, however, conjured up the questioning of Adam. "Is everything okay?" His voice sounded concerned on the other side of the line. 

"Yeah, everything's... _fine,_ " he gritted his teeth as he swatted away Newt's hand like an irritating fly. 

The whole thing had become childish, like they were both six year-olds having a petty argument using petty techniques. Adam's unsure, "Okay..." was almost completely forgotten in the background as Thomas mouthed, _"Stop,"_ back at Newt, who continued attempting at grasping the phone himself. 

"Should I call you back?" Adam inquired, Thomas clambering over the bed with the other boy threatening to reach him. 

"No!" He insisted, but most of his focus was into chucking a pillow at Newt's head. "Brenda's just being a _nuisance_ as usual," he forced a laugh, which sounded more like a patronizing warning in Newt's point of view. 

"Uh huh..." Adam said. 

"So, tonight!" Thomas quickly changed back to the topic and just hoped that the other would go with it. 

Unfortunately, Newt seized this distracted opportunity to leap onto the brunette's back, almost dragging the two boys down as his hands flew in all directions to get hold of the phone. Thomas almost shrieked in surprise once he felt the weight of the boy's body and the firm legs wrapped around his torso. His own body wobbled as it tried to grasp its new found balance, knocking into a few other objects on the way. The catastrophic noise took Adam aback. "I'm... gonna' call you back," he stated suspiciously and hung up before Thomas had the chance to interfere with his decision. He stared at the floor in disbelief with the phone still pressed against his ear. 

The weight on his back lifted and, soon enough, Newt was walking away - ruffling his hair as if he hadn't done something so rational as he trudged back to his seat. He didn't make it that far, however, without some of Thomas' fury along the way. The blonde's body jolted forwards after Thomas' powerful shove against his unaware back. 

"The _fuck,_ Thomas?" Newt cursed and shoved him (not as roughly) in return. 

"What do you mean, _'What the fuck?'_ You _know_ what you did!" He yelled. 

Newt had an agitated expression, but the hint of guilt was still there regardless. 

"Is sabotaging relationships a daily _thing_ for you, or something?" Thomas seethed. All barriers that were defending the spite in his words were knocked down; all that was left were accusations. "Is it something you _enjoy?"_ He almost laughed at the very thought of it.

"You and Adam hardly have a _relationship_ , Tommy," Newt's lips upturned in amusement and he lazily turned his back to Thomas.

"Oh, because you'd know all about relationships-" Thomas started.

"-You _slept_ with each other at a party, drunk off your _minds,_ and you've literally _just_ now used him as an attempt of proving that you _'don't'_ use him," Newt scoffed. He turned back to face him with astonishment. "I may not be the best at relationships, but even _I_ know that's not how you start one."  

The Brit practically fell into his chair after his small rant and ran a hand tiredly through his hair. Thomas stood, not really knowing what to do or say, until his eyes landed on a flat-screen TV the size of his house; underneath was every kind of updated, high-tech game console you could possibly think of. "You got Netflix?" Thomas' gaze landed back onto Newt, who was fiddling aimlessly with his fingers.

The question perked up interest, however, and the boy looked up in a slight daze. His eyebrows furrowed and he seemed in thought for a while, which made Thomas wonder what on earth was so obscure about the simple inquiry. Newt finally met the other boy's stare and practically whispered, "Are you suggesting Netflix and chi-"

"-Oh my God," Thomas muttered, already on his way to collect his bag and exit. 

The blonde jumped out of his seat. "No, wait! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" He exclaimed, to which Thomas paused. "Yeah, I do," the boy answered hurriedly. 

Thomas' eyebrow quirked in approval and he slowly retraced the steps he took towards the door - this time, using them to head towards the direction of the TV. He signalled Newt in a way of saying, _"Well, come on then,"_ to which the boy did, gladly.

Thomas slouched himself onto yet, another seat; this one being a lot more soft and material-like compared to the rest of the furniture. It looked already worn-out, which suggested that it was the most preferred out of them all.

 _"TV, on,"_ Newt called.

Thomas didn't even hold back the exasperated sigh in disbelief, so of course he expected the blonde to spin his head around at the sudden noise. His expression was that of an innocent squirrel being shouted at for simply eating its acorns. 

 

* * *

 

They bickered.

On and on about the pro's and con's of each and every TV show, film and _even_ documentary (Newt had _a lot_ to say about certain documentaries, which didn't come as a surprise to Thomas). And so that's how the next half an hour was spent: snatching the remote off each other and scrolling aimlessly through the different selections, making occasional comments about some of them- unlike specific ones that managed to conjure up a _storm_ of an argument between the two boys. During rare moments, the possibility of finding something to watch seemed just in reach, but (inevitably) a certain remark or criticism ruined those chances, and the bickering proceeded.

As unplanned and chaotic as it may have been, Thomas found relief in experiencing his first real hangout with Newt. If he could call it that.

 

* * *

 

Their second kiss happened six episodes of 'Scream' and four cans of beer later, bodies sprawled and intertwined with each other across the sofa, their moans and gasps for air tied in with the forgotten sounds of episode seven. 

It was completely messed up and they both knew it, but the weight of Newt's body on top of Thomas' was far from being rejected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember when i said that there probably wasn't going to be another long ass chapter like the last one? yeahh...  
> i was too lazy to proof read all of it, so apologies for any sillies^.^  
> comments are more needed than ever for me, so please feel free! also reach me through my twitter if you want:-) @lMMORTALNEWT


	11. chapter eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> thomas realises just how problematic it is to have a thing for newt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hola, amigos  
> long time no see (yes, i'm alive) ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

It was the second time Thomas had awoken within Newt's household - body recovering from large intakes of alcohol - but this time seemed a lot less displeasing than the first.

Displeasing though, nevertheless.

The brunette groaned at the sudden racket that had caused him to arise from his slumber. The nonsense of it all felt like harsh stabs straight through Thomas' eardrums, but he wondered why on earth it did (for he thankfully didn't have as big of a hangover that morning). 

"You fell asleep during the _finale_ , man," a playful voice commented over the busy noise.

Thomas gained all of his weakened power to raise his body into more of a sitting position, and it was only then that he realised he had spent the entire night sprawled on Newt's freaking _sofa._

"The finale was the best fucking part," the boy's grin was caught by Thomas just in time. "Want me to tell you who the killer is?" The Brit turned his head quickly to reveal another kind of smirk, away from his current focus on fiddling about with pots and containers - each filled to the brim with pencils, paintbrushes, oil pastels, anything any artist could ever need in its lifetime. It frustrated Thomas to see how chirpy the other boy seemed to be; it reminded him of the kind of feeling he felt upon seeing the energetic atmosphere within the kitchen the morning after the party. How the carefree attitudes of each newly found friend made Thomas believe how much of a _lightweight_ he was.

Newt returned his gaze back onto his artsy equipment just as Thomas ruffled his _God_ awful morning hair and rested his chin in the palm of his hand. "Not really," he mused. 

"Suit yourself," the blonde muttered, giving no time for any possible pauses within the conversation. 

After that, both the teens rested into their current states. Thomas flopped his head back onto the pillow, placing the back of his hand on top of his forehead and allowing his mind to be engulfed with whatever decided to enter, such as the events of yesterday evening. Of course the kiss happened. The boy would admit that he was a lightweight, but not _that_ ridiculously light. Thomas' thoughts about the feeling of Newt's lips on his own were dreadfully and abruptly interrupted by something else. 

"SHIT!" 

Thomas' body finally shot up from his daze at the sudden panic; Newt's head spun, a handful of expensive biro-pens within his clutch. He didn't inquire anything about the unexpected change of mood from the brunette and, instead, looked questionably at the distressed boy.

"What time is it?" Thomas practically tore the blanket off of his body and clambered himself up.   
"Half eleven," Newt answered without taking his eyes off of Thomas, his expression hardly showing concern of the other boy's worries.

Thomas cursed and cursed and cursed the whole time he took to search for his shoes, tripping over his own feet occasionally as well as attempting to erase the rest of his grogginess and the achy sensation sleeping on a sofa beheld over his body.

Overall, he had reached the conclusion that he will never succeed at having a reasonable morning within Newt's household.

"You're one of the most stressed out shuckfaces I've ever met," Newt commented from afar as he observed Thomas' panicked state, pacing around the room still trying to find his other shoe.

The boy paused momentarily to furrow his eyebrows. "Shuckfa...?" His voice faded in questioning, but the brunette then shook his head and muttered something along the lines of, _"Don't have time for this."_

Newt scoffed down at the thin paintbrush situated between his fingers like it was a cigarette. "Yeah, I'm sure you don't," he mumbled. His peculiar statement wasn't given enough time for Thomas to ponder about, as the door was lightly tapped from the other side. "Come in," Newt called boringly.

The maid that Thomas recognised from yesterday entered. "There's someone here to see you, Isaac," she pronounced with a kind smile once her eyes set upon the other boy in the room.

The very name that she called him was like a sudden shock to Thomas' ears before he remembered that that was Newt's real one. _Isaac._  The boy tested it out a couple of times and reached the conclusion that he wasn't going to be calling him that any time soon. 

Newt didn't even bother asking for a name or appearance, but instead placed the paintbrush back onto the desk and wandered out of the room with a gentle sigh. And Thomas decided to follow him without his shoes (still yet to be found) and without the slightest idea as to _why,_ but there he was - following the blonde down the stairs and eventually reaching a small monitor stuck onto the wall in the kitchen. The item reminded Thomas of something out of a James Bond movie, which only forced his eyes to roll even further into the back of his head. 

As the Brit pressed his thumb on one of the buttons, an image of a group of three people displayed on the screen. Newt's eyes widened the same time as his eyebrows creased in realisation and Thomas immediately found out why (right before he could even think of asking why the boy didn't simply _answer_ the door straight away). 

On the screen, showing footage from just the other side of the door, Jorge and two of his gang buddies stood menacingly, the ringleader catching the eye of the camera and sending a grin its way. "Newt," he greeted with a wave of his hand, "we came for a chat, bud." 

 

* * *

  

Thomas sensed, for the first time in a while, a nervous tension beside him coming from Newt. That much was shown through the boy's hitched breath and deeply agitated frown as his eyes locked onto those digital ones of Jorge. The Brit pressed his thumb on another button - a red one that stood out amongst the others. "What about?" He said after a few moments of hesitation.

Although Newt now looked away, Jorge kept his sharp glare on the camera. Thomas wasn't sure how, but some way he was convinced that the man was able to produce as much intimidation through a camera lens than during real life encounters. "I don't wanna' talk through a screen, Newt," he tried to come off as some kind of friendly neighbour, but the tension was far from disintegrating any time soon. "Why don't you let me in?" The question sounded less of a request, more like a command.  
"I don't know about that," Newt seemed to gain some of the confidence Thomas was so used to seeing in that moment, which relieved him.

Jorge pressed his lips together and his shoulders slumped; he lowered his head with a grumpy, mocking expression. "Now, why's that?" The man's lips perked upwards, "we're pals aren't we, Newt? It's not like I've come here to hurt you, right?" Each question became more menacing than the last as well as his tone of voice.

"I dunno' _what_ you're here for, Jorge," Newt stated with a lingering sigh only heard by those within close proximity of him (aka Thomas).

And by 'close proximity', that meant the two boy's heads almost pressed against each other due to Thomas' curiousness for the man who had so much presence that the two companions nearby were completely forgotten. One single movement from either of them would result in (Thomas was assuming) a harsh cuss courtesy of Newt and a sore bruise for the both of them later on.

Jorge's state became agitated and he sent a glance to a sharp-jawed man on his left before turning back and scuffing his shoe. "I think you do, Newt," the Hispanic man said with a tilt of his head.

Thomas' focus was now on the two men standing a mere few centimetres away from the leader, as one of them delved briefly into the inside of their jacket. Knowing that only they could see them, Thomas brushed his hand against Newt's upper arm, signalling his worry. 

"Do I need to call the police, Isaac?" The maid asked from afar, obviously sensing the shiftiness of the situation. 

Luckily, Newt's finger wasn't pushing pressure onto the red button at that time. Even with her being quite a few metres away, Thomas still felt convinced that Jorge obtained super hearing as well as the ability to make you feel entirely exposed. 

"It's fine, Andrea," the blonde took the time to face her with a smile that could calm even the most panicked of people. 

Newt then caught the eye of Thomas who, as experienced as he was with these kind of situations, still fought with the increasing speed of which his heart paced. Their breaths couldn't help but mix within the small space between their faces; dark eyes glanced down momentarily much to Thomas' immediate discomfort, but quickly left before he could feel any more exposed.

The Brit's jaw clenched as his finger lingered above the button, which caused Thomas to wonder if he did indeed _know_ what Jorge came for. His body language suggested highly of that. "I can't let you in, Jorge," the boy stated, determined. 

The sight that the monitor screen had to offer was that of limited, but the man was obviously on edge after Newt's fatal decision took place. He blinked softly and gazed down at the ground before him; any sudden movement now would seem obscure - out of place within the tension-filled atmosphere. A secure, locked door divided them from the man, but Thomas felt more threatened than ever. 

Jorge's head tilted ever so slightly and his expression grimaced, as if he were in pain of some sort. "I really don't want to make this any more complicated than it has to be, Newt," he spoke with a spiteful tongue. 

One thought hit Thomas, and that thought was: _this guy is insane._ Simply and purely. No matter what he said, the lingering sense of dangerous insanity mixed with his words and that didn't help the natural intimidation that came with it.  

"I don't, either," Newt stated back.   
"I know you don't," the man fired speech like bullets, but easily and non-hesitant. As if Newt's words didn't phase him in the slightest.

Thomas didn't know what overcame him in the moment that he shoved the blonde out of the way and took matters into his own hands (inevitably taking the consequences with it, too). But there he was, with his thumb pressed firmly onto the red button, not really knowing what he saying until he said it. 

"Then why don't you just walk away?" 

Beside him, Newt's eyes widened and scanned over Thomas like he was a mad man... which he probably was. The brunette glanced over at him and gulped nervously as he read the other boy's lips. _What the hell?_ They exclaimed. 

Honestly, he would've reacted the same way if he were the one observing an absolute fool risking everything he is by doing something so rational. But he just couldn't stand there _watching._ He was never that kind of person, and he _certainly_ wasn't going to start today just because of some over-confident druggie with his head too far up his ass. 

Jorge's eyebrows raised at the new sounding accent over the speaker, but quickly blended into a smug, knowing grin. The very transition was enough to worry both the boys. The man didn't raise his gaze off of the floor as he mused, "That your new _boytoy,_ hermano?"

Everything after that felt like a daze. 

The deep sound of Newt's footsteps as he stormed towards the front door echoed in Thomas' mind and he barely had time to turn around to follow him before the blonde had swung open the door. Something had hit a nerve; that much was obvious. 

Jorge's voice felt like a pang in Thomas' chest compared to the safety of it projecting through a monitor. "Oh, so you _do_ know how to open a door?" The smirk was obvious within the tone and his words travelled all the way through the spacious house like a dreaded tsunami. 

Across the kitchen, Andrea wore a cautious expression and quickly glanced towards Thomas, who was too busy in thought about the whole situation that he almost definitely _shouldn't_ be in. _Boytoy,_ his mind hissed. He kissed his teeth harshly just as the very sound of it. 

One step later, a sharp ringing came from Thomas' jean pocket and the bickering voices became muffled under the familiar sound of his sister on the other line. Except the tone of her voice was immediate. Panicked.

"Brenda-"  
"-Jesus _Christ,_ Thomas," Brenda's words drowned in relief, "Mom's worried sick!" 

Thomas sighed heavily, eyes shut as he allowed her to continue whatever rant she had in store.

"We were _this_ close to calling the police, y'know," the girl spoke hurriedly. Thomas couldn't exactly witness what she was supposed to be displaying as a visual to ' _this_ close', but he imagined the proximity was close to none.

"I know. I'm sorry..." he repeated that saying more than a few times during that long-expected phone call. The voices heard from just a few hallways down raised in volume as well as viciousness. Thomas only managed to capture a couple of words used, but his hearing was inevitably limited due to Brenda taking up half of it. 

She sighed for the hundredth time. "Whatever. You're at Newt's, right?" 

That caught Thomas' full attention and caused his eyebrows to furrow. "How exactly did you...?" Not bothering to finish the sentence, as he knew perfectly well that his sister was capable enough to grasp the question being asked. 

"Newt texted me," she stated as if it were the most obvious thing known to mankind. Something so simple as, "bananas are yellow" or, "grass is green". 

But this most certainly  _wasn't_ as simple as that. Thomas practically just found out that the boy had let him run around the room that morning in an utter panic, convinced that his family and friends were still wondering where the hell he was. That they might have possibly already called a search party on him, or something rational like that. A million possibilities raced around his head that morning and Newt just sat there, messing about with his stupid, fancy pencils and pens, _watching._

Did this new-found piece of information piss him off to the absolute max? Most definitely. 

"Thomas?" Brenda's worry increased the longer the time spent hearing nothing, but silence.

The brunette's still exterior compared greatly to that of his interior, which was too busy setting itself on fire with the burning _hatred_ he felt for the other boy in that moment. So much, that he couldn't seem to care what happened between him and his drugged-up, quite _insane_ buddies. 

_"You said shit about splitting the money!"_

Newt's viscous tongue felt foreign for Thomas. Inexperienced. Whatever was going down, it didn't sound as if it was going to end pretty, nor something Thomas wanted himself to apart of.

Thomas muted Brenda away from his focus completely and instead walked aimlessly in the direction back to the stairs. During the journey, he briefly passed by the room in which Newt stood with a sneering expression at the man slumped on one of the jet black sofas.

The blonde's eyes diverted away just in time to notice Thomas' body speeding past the doorway and his expression softened. Attention now captured, he couldn't help, but feel the need to follow the boy - _talk_ to him. The very need caused one of Newt's feet to step forward. Unaware of his own action, Jorge scoffed at the sight. _"Boytoy_ seems a little too eager to get away," the man patronized. 

Newt showed no signs of retaliating against the statement aside from the stern glare downwards. 

 

* * *

 

Ever since his new friendships had struck at the very beginning of college life, Thomas had discovered his new found habit of performing rational acts. 

He stood there; the door only just shut hurriedly a few seconds ago and now he was outside Newt's house with his shoes thankfully on (which were conveniently easier to find the second time he had begun his search without the company of the blonde). And yet, he had no idea what he was doing. _Why_ he left. In many ways Thomas saw it himself as selfish - abandoning Newt to fend for himself against Jorge. After witnessing the past events concerning Newt and his relationship with the man i.e. multiple actions of pure violence, he was so certain that leaving him behind would be the _last_ thing he would ever think of doing, yet that was what he just did.

So the next day at college (of which Newt decided to miraculously show up) was bound to be one hell of a day.

"I expect you all to have memorised these notes by next Monday," Alby announced from the head of the classroom. 

The very statement knocked Thomas out of the unquestionable daze he found himself lost in, to realise he had no _idea_ what notes the guy was blabbering on about (his voice acting as fuzzy murmurs at the back of the boy's head ever since the start of the class). 

He thought about calling Newt on the same way of which he marched out of his house; apologising, maybe. But Thomas' overthinking mind soon dug that temptation deep within the ground of his brain he liked to label 'never gonna' happen' and that was the end of that. Still, that didn't mean he couldn't torture himself with the dreadful guilt that naturally overflowed him like a tsunami of reminiscent. 

"Hey," a soft nudge knocked Thomas completely out of daydream and back into the reality of the busying classroom where students filed impatiently out of the door. He glanced up to find Teresa looking down at him with her signature grin. The one that could have any boy she desired lost for words. For Thomas, however, it was a smile that brought relief during the most negative of times and he sure as hell was thankful to be witnessing at that moment. "You ready to go?" Teresa asked.

"Yeah," Thomas began packing away his notebooks that merely consisted of a couple lazily written words when he had the energy. This is just an example of the little facts that sent Thomas spiraling down the shit hole of overthinking (i.e. the realisation that he's a destined drop out with no chance of a worthy future), but before he could toss his mind back down there again, a buzz signalled Thomas' attention from within his jean pocket as him and Teresa trailed down the packed corridor. The text displaying on his screen caused his heart to leap after seeing who it was from.

 

* * *

 

Thomas has the habit in which he swallows unwillingly before venturing into something potentially lethal. In this case, the lethal object of desire was Newt - a smoking college boy currently leaning against the back wall of the science block like some kind of angelic  _twat._  Every step towards him felt like an agonizing step into utter doom from Thomas' perspective, but that wasn't stopping him in his tracks any time soon (especially since he was already facing him by the time he was debating whether or not to spin on his heel and speed walk away).

A puff of smoke clouded the brunette's senses as Newt cocked his head mid-exhale. Thomas strained his neck away from the toxins, his heart already thumping wildly within his chest at the mere acknowledgment of the other boy's eyes. _Just pull it together, man._

Newt's gaze wandered Thomas' body from head to toe, paralyzing the other boy on the very spot before muttering, "You left," and returning the end of his half-smoked cigarette to the opening of his lips. 

Immediately, Thomas' heart began thumping rapidly again just when he thought he had calmed it down, but he refused to show it. "Well I didn't feel particularly safe, what with the Mexican drug dealer and his two buddies - one of which had a _gun,_ may I add _,_ " his voice gradually raised in volume the more agitated he got and Newt subtly rolled his eyes.

"It was just for _show,_ " he said, looking at the other teen as if he had no brain cells.

Thomas gritted his teeth. "Do you think I give a shit?" Newt perked up at the level of spite within the boy's words, and he discarded his half-smoked cigarette as Thomas continued. "That guy's friends almost beat you to _death_ and now you're, what, defending them?" He didn't dare hold back the judgmental stare that was aimed Newt's way, nor was he surprised at the blonde's scoff in return. It seemed that everything Thomas was saying, he had a thousand opinions against it.

"I'm not defending them, Thomas. I'm just pissed that you left," he said, his eyelids shut as he leaned his head back against the wall.

That was all Thomas needed to temporarily pause his tantrum and instead observe the Brit with curiosity. "Oh," he felt progressively dumber the more seconds flew by and he couldn't help, but want to take back everything he said, as now it just seemed meaningless. "Well... sorry?" It came out as a question, unfortunately revealing the absolute confusion that Thomas was currently experiencing. 

 _Me? Apologising?_ He thought. _"He was the one who let three maniacs wander into his house and I'm the one saying sorry? What am I even saying sorry for?_

Newt scoffed again, but this time it was more of a laugh being released than a disapproval. "Well shit, now I have to say sorry, otherwise I'll look like a dick," he grinned, which let Thomas know the situation had been thankfully uplifted. 

So uplifted in fact, that Thomas was close to claiming, "You're a dick anyway," but quickly decided against out of fear that it was out of the boundary the two boys had created in terms of banter. He didn't want to take his chances when it came to what Newt took as personal and not personal, especially since he overheard the extent that his anger could get upon Jorge's arrival (and apparent claim of "splitting the money"). 

After careful consideration, Thomas chose silence on his part and so neither of them spoke for a few seconds. The quiet wasn't awkward, surprisingly. Instead it was relaxing, but the brunette couldn't possess any ounces of knowledge to work out why, considering the heated argument that just went down a couple moments before.

Not-so-surprisingly, Newt broke the silence. "You called Adam recently?"

Thomas lifted his head as soon as the question left the boy's lips. Well _that_ was unexpected. The very existence of Adam escaped his mind a mere few minutes after phoning him at Newt's place just to spite him, and it hadn't returned since then. 

The blonde shuffled in his spot. "It's just that he, uh, texted me," he finally met Thomas' gaze, "asking 'bout you."

"What'd you say?" Thomas asked, genuinely interested for the answer as he observed the other boy's fidgety state. Something about the topic obviously made him uncomfortable.

Newt frowned downwards for a while before shrugging. "That you've been busy," he practically mumbled. Thomas wouldn't have heard it if he wasn't paying extra attention. 

He raised an eyebrow. "Busy?" He pressed, secretly holding back a grin that was threatening to play on his lips. For once, it was him that was obtaining the 'upper-hand' in a conversation, and he had no problem with using that to his advantage. 

"Yeah," Newt shrugged again. "Like, with college stuff. I told him not to be surprised if you don't have time to call him, is all."

"Ohh, I see," Thomas nodded, but even Newt saw the teasing nature within the gesture and his expression noticeably faltered.

 "Whatever," the blonde muttered with another one of his infamous eye rolls, "if you're not gonna' call him, at least don't string him along." The boy dug around his jacket pocket to find his carton of cigarettes before raising the box to his lips and effortlessly pulling one between his teeth. _Didn't he just throw one away?_ Thomas grimaced at the thought of how ruined the teen's lungs must be already. He never thought of himself as the motherly-judgemental type, but it didn't take a snob to state the obvious fact that smoking as many as Newt did was unhealthy. An early death waiting to happen, which was too sinister to even think about for long.

"I'm not stringing him along, Newt," Thomas told him, who was momentarily distracted from lighting his cigarette. When the Brit did eventually make eye contact, there was nothing friendly about it (not that Thomas was used to any kind of sincerity coming from Newt). 

"So you're either a prick in denial, or you're doing it unconsciously," he states. "Either way him texting _me_ shows that you're stringing him along."

Thomas chose to ignore the obvious insult within the first part of that speech and instead focused on the emphasis Newt put on that specific word. Me. "Why? You two got a history?" He was meaning to ask someone as soon as the awkward situation the morning after the party, what with all the tension between them just from exchanging a few words. 

Newt scoffed just after he exhaled another drag of nicotine. "Something like that," he replied.

"Huh."

Shockingly, that was all Thomas needed to say in order for the other boy to cave in. "Okay," the blonde huffed out another laughter of annoyance, "so we hooked up a couple times. Happy?" After that quick confession, Newt seemed in a hurry to finish his cigarette in record time. Thomas wondered if that was because he wanted to begin the next one in his pack. 

"Wait, lemme' guess," he assumed that Newt didn't feel particularly inspired to finish the story, so the brunette decided to finish it for him. "He fell in love with you, but you saw it as a sex-only thing, so you turned him down?" Newt didn't say anything, but kept his gaze on the area near Thomas' feet, who continued. "And then - I dunno' - his heart broke because he realised that he fell for an absolute dickhead, and that's how he's ever gonna' see you which is why he now hates your guts?"

Thomas searched the boy for any kind of sign that the theory was even partly accurate, but he was given nothing of the sort.

"I've silenced him," he stated in genuine surprise. "The infamous Newt - defeated by his own fuck-up... it's kinda' ironic actual-"

Two hands violently grasped at Thomas' shirt and the brunette was shoved against the wall in the space of a few blurry seconds. A second cigarette lay discarded on the ground and Thomas could feel the boy's breath tickling his face with each harsh exhale. He didn't whether he should be scared or turned-on by the sudden act of rage.

Newt studied all of Thomas' features with an insane amount of intensity. His eyebrows furrowed in what seemed like genuine confusion, but for all Thomas knew it could be anything; a moment to think what kind of death he should have perhaps. Finally, the blonde's eyes met his under the shadow that the loose strands of hair were casting. "I don't like this."

The clutch he had on Thomas' shirt tightened slightly, but the brunette refused to show any signs of discomfort. Instead he stared hopelessly into the eyes that now seemed like two black holes, threatening to drag Thomas in if he dared look away.

"This confidence," Newt said, going back to studying Thomas from the top of his head to the nape of his neck. "You're too confident - when did you become so confident?"

Needless to say, Thomas absolutely regretted his decision to try and interrogate Newt. _Newt, out of all people. You chose Newt._

This remorse, however, was of nothing but an irritating reminder of the boy's mistake; as long as none of it exposed itself on the outside, Thomas could act in control. He fought with the temptation to gulp. "I learn from the best," the reply was sent straight through to Newt. It travelled through every nerve, every corner and every edge within the boy's mind until a reply of his own could be made.

A strange sensation of warmth coursed through Thomas' veins once the grip on his shirt was released. Now, it didn't seem like an act of violent behaviour, but just Newt standing _miles_ beyond Thomas' personal space: a fact that neither of them could bring upon themselves to refuse, or change for that matter. All they could do was inspect one another and see if either of them made a move.

Thomas' heart pulsated almost as fast as Newt probably gets through three packs of cigarettes, and his eyelids threatened to close after long moments spent gazing at the blonde's lips. They didn't leave that area even when he dared to speak. "I, um..." he softly cleared his throat, like every single noise being made could break whatever trance they had found themselves falling into. Something about Newt made Thomas think that everything about him was made of glass, but it tragically seemed as if Newt didn't choose to live that way. Instead, he chose to live like an indestructible time bomb with no particular amount of years, months or days set. Like it could go off any second, and Newt decided that that was how he was to live. Unknowingly and recklessly, but alive in someway.

"What-"

"I don't know," Newt's unexpected voice sent shivers down Thomas' body, which was thought of as impossible after experiencing the body heat currently transferring between them. "Don't ask stupid questions," he told the brunette, who's eyebrows knitted together in questioning. "You don't even know what I wa-"

Newt pressed his lips against Thomas' in a kiss that would forever silence him, and every single word of every single sentence he thought of saying was forgotten and replaced with a hand on the back of Newt's neck as he pulled him impossibly closer. He tasted of ash and mint, Thomas thought, which would've come off as bitter in anyone's mouth if Newt's hands hadn't placed themselves on the exact places needed. After a soft hand grazed the thin exposure of skin just above Thomas' jeans, the boy tasted anything but bitter; if it were to be put into a single word, perhaps that word would be 'want'. 

The inevitable feeling of hypocrisy and guilt lay deep within the back of Thomas' mind and acted as an anchor in his gut, ensuring that while the moment was being spent in pleasure there was a form of suffering to remind him of his betrayal. He hated this, he really did. He loathed the way that no matter how hard he tried to drag himself away from the problem, there was always a magnet to pull him right back again. Newt's lips were the magnet, and Thomas was a helpless little paperclip, begging to be drawn in. 

Breaths turned into gasps and talking downgraded to quiet, practically inaudible, moans, but one thing was for certain in all of this mayhem. Something absolutely unchangeable. Thomas was never planning on getting tired of this. 

"THOMAS?" 

The bond was broken as sharply as an elastic band snapping and both boys whipped their heads in the direction of the interrupting voice, making sure to separate whilst doing so. If Thomas' heart wasn't close to bursting from his very chest before, then it most certainly was now. He stared, panicked, into the widened eyes of his sister who's unlit cigarette fell from the loosened grip between two of her fingers and landed on the concrete.

 _That's three now,_  was all Thomas could think. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hellooooooo!!  
> i've risen from my grave at last to finally update this fic and i can't even begin to say how sorry i am for the mini hiatus i took, which caused a lot of you to think i gave up on it completely:'( but luckily i had a sudden breakthrough to the point where i was writing until 4am, so i guess my brain doesn't hate me for the time being ?? i really do not know. 
> 
> again im very very sorry for the wait that lasted about a century or so, but i've been less swamped with schoolwork recently, so i've been able to put more thought into this fic and what i wanted to happen n' all that chizz. i'm sososo incredibly thankful for all the comments and continuous support i've been given about my writing and those who understood my writer's block - it's because of that that i managed to even finish this chapter so thank you x10000!
> 
> as usual, i haven't proof read the entire thing so i apologise for any slip ups:') also, please continue telling me your thoughts as it means so much more to me than you think, thanks again!<33  
> special thanks to maartje for keeping me going and motivated (u da real mvp) *unicorn emoji*
> 
> p.s. i literally looked up how to write a decent kissing scene gtg


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